Thursday, April 9, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: I Can’t Waltz

They stepped to his left, then forward, then right, then back. It was the least comfortable square he ever made. One hand was on her shoulder and one hand went so low on her hip he hoped his mom wasn't watching. She made him so nervous that he only touched her with the tips of his fingers so she wouldn't feel the sweat on his palms. Maybe she didn't feel them, but she saw every time his eyes averted, and it made her smile this smile that… well, he was glad she couldn’t feel his palms. Heart going faster, forgetting how to breathe, he traced that square over and over again, even after the song ended.

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