The Dancer

She flew into the dark city and suddenly the city became full of light. They were pale before her, the people with their empty looks and washed straw hair. She laughed loud when all they knew was to nod. She danced barefoot and danced with heels and drank wine from the bottle and stepped on a dead jelly fish and still laughed. They did not understand her.

He loved her. The tall man with the straw-washed hair and long legs and blank blue eyes. He loved her because he couldn’t help but love her. He loved her and did nothing else to help the love grow. When the love withered and died, she was no longer dancing. She was sitting in the corner of a straw hut, her hair turning white.

Her jet black curls turning white. And limp.

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