Seeking Perfection

They danced. It had been a long time.

He slung her around him, circle after circle, arms held high, more pretending than anything. It had been years since the last time he made this kind of effort. Dancing had never been his thing. He could hold a rhythm, but not with his feet, which always gave up shortly after moving arms and hips joined the equation. The sum of the effort never added up to anything good.

But today he gave it a shot because it’s rare to earn a wide smile like the one plastered across her face. All teeth. Lots of white. It’s a kind of honesty that can’t be ignored. He sought it out every day and when he saw it, he never wanted to take it away from her.

Or himself.

So they danced, no matter how long it had been or how sluggish his feet shifted back and forth.

1-2. 1-2. 1-2.

He counted the numbers over and over, desperate to stay steady. Anything to keep her smile from disappearing.

The music faded. They did, too. Laughing and holding hands, they forced their feet to carry them, respite just a few steps away.

In its waning hours, the sun held strong, even as their bodies did not.

“What a perfect day,” she noted, still smiling.

“Almost,” he replied, pouring them a drink.

 

Find other “Quick Drink Fiction” pieces.

+Bryan Roth
“Don’t drink to get drunk. Drink to enjoy life.” — Jack Kerouac

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