He was not like us. He smiled to himself when nothing external seemed funny. He hummed jolly tunes a little louder than was necessary. He was not like us in the sense that he was, supposedly, a happy man. I had my doubts about his sunny disposition. Over tye years I've developed a skill that allows me to see through fake smiles and jaunty jingles to the cold truth that, deep down, we're all as miserable as eachother. He was not like us. He danced to inaudible music. One hand crossed over his chest, the other held out in the air,spiralling around the vast living room with an invisible partner. His red and gold embroidered roles trailed out behind him as he span. This invisible partner replaced Elizabeth. Her dress flowed out behind her as her phantom moved with his steps.

Stories Death Dancing Relations Love