It wasn’t quite sunset. Not yet blushing, the sky’s blue faded and became soft and pale. The narrow kitchen was just too dark to be productive. Luckily, productivity was not on the young man’s agenda. The kitchen door was flung open and a woman stood where it once did.
“Hello. I love you.”
A smile. An embrace. Echos of Springsteen spilt out of the kitchen, door now ajar. His hands moved from her shoulders, down her body, settling at her waist. She felt them squeeze a bit tighter, and then sway. Just a little at first. Then came a step to the side. Then backwards. A giggle escaped her. They shimmied their bodies back and forth, searching for a rhythm. They found it in each other, in the wild, unashamed flailing of hips and elbows. They bumped into a table and both squealed.
You can't start a fire, you can't start a fire without a spark…
What began as holding one another had quickly devolved into a fit of laughter and movement. They paused for a moment, easily finding the glint of one another’s eyes in the barely lit kitchen, incapable of stopping the smiles that spread across their faces. They let out a breath. She leaned into him. Though their arms and feet may not have been in perfect sync, their hearts certainly were. Together they followed one beat, twin metronomes.
There, in the kitchen, with tinny song echoing off of the tiles and dusk invading the flat, the two young lovers kissed. As the apartment building opposite theirs slowly turned from pink to midnight blue, they swayed, holding one another.
Dancing in the dark…