Our story begins with an overweight table, cushioned seats, and inquisitive attentions of marvel in an obscure dining room which was occupied with the souls of lovers, performers, and acquaintances. It was an eye to an eye in the matter of minutes, and the sound around me vanished.
Dressed to impress, you looked more dashing than the bride herself. Scandals are you? Tis, this is her day. You were dressed in an elaborate short white evening dress that showed curves and movement from all directions. Gentleman from both sides would soon be asking for your hand in marriage, rather than just a dance in celebration.
My heart was at a regular pace that was worthy. Love at first sight hadn’t caught up to me yet, but curiosity had. Each demand, fitting at the time, exploded through my attention. For now, you were known as Table Number Twenty-Two.
It’s been two hours and not a word was pronounced yet. I was a tall, abstract new blooded college student. And you were the classic American damsel in distress. Your aid, I had not figured out yet, but roughly I had something on the tip of my tongue. Your face showed no sympathy for the men who showered you with attention.
The night was getting later by the hour, yet the party was still romping. Flashy music entertained the crowed the entire evening, and it seemed like the party would become never-ending.
I was running out of time. I was going to make the first move.
My heart was picking up a beginners run.
Effortlessly and soundlessly I walked a straight line up to you. It was now or never. Not even asking for a name, I took your hand, smiled, and escorted our figure’s to the dance floor. You showed, what I thought was, a smile. Was I actually doing something correct?
My heart became clam again.
Interesting and fond I found you; you kept my attention, luring me into a future that was so far unwritten. Our dance concluded to a slow rest when the music finished. I was sure you gave me a smile, although not a word came out from you while we swayed, I saw “thank you” printed in the edge of your red lushes lips. It seemed like I was winding down summer with a beautiful memory, yet it was leading to nothing except you. Disremembering you from my mind was not an option. Stimulating as you were, my modest smile just couldn’t hide from yours.
As the night grew older, and I continued to act as a shadow, I thought it would be lovely to get to know your designation. With one last burst of confidence in my soul, I proudly walked up to you and grandly introduced myself as Table Number Twenty Three.
You smiled, and introduced yourself as Autumn.
The End.