At first it was as if someone was brushing their gaze on you; like a soft touch on your bare shoulders–something light and airy and wonderful, like a luminescent feather oscillating in the dark; and then slowly, you felt the heat built up around you and the intensity got heightened; the feather was burning with blinding lights of fireworks; and then you caught his eyes from the other end of the room–something that lit up in the midst of swaying dark shadows and beers and music and half-drunk conversations; and he smiled, and you smiled back, until one of you lowered your gaze shyly, and the other did, too; but you knew that once the ancient ritual had started, it was bound to happen anyhow.
It was the first quarter of the day, morning was just around the corner–but under the strobe lights, the music was still blaring and the crowd was still cheering and the night was still too young–and so you caught him gazing your way again and you gazed his way again, and again, and again, and you smiled, and he smiled, and then you realized that this evening was your last–one of those now-or-never kind of moment that you would cherish or regret; and so you said what-the-f**k and invited him for your last dance in a city that had robbed your heart when you were still finding ways to not fall in love with it. And so he took your hand, circled his arms around your waist, fixed his gaze upon you; and the rest was history.
There were times when you couldn’t capture the detailed outlines of the flower petals or the trees or the clouds or the skyscrapers because it seemed like time flew away so fast, too fast–and you could only recall the blurry feeling of cotton candies and marshmallows and merry-go-rounds; and you remembered feeling fuzzy and warm and comfortable and both of you were whirling in concentric motions, throwing your heads in the air as you were laughing while clinging into each other’s arms and you felt the world around you moved faster and faster and faster as if it was seen from a kaleidoscope: where the tube of mirrors and pieces of colored glass produces changing patterns as it was being rotated by some random tiny little hands; waiting for some sort of magic to start appearing before your eyes.
And suddenly you came to notice that your feet were not even touching the ground anymore; as he had lifted you up high in the air and his moves took you orbiting in circles–faster and faster and faster, and you were giggling and closing your eyes and holding on to him tighter and tighter and tighter–until gently, he put you back on the floor–both of you were sweating and laughing and the world was silent for a moment while the two of you were looking into each other’s eyes; the lights above you were becoming brighter and brighter and brighter; the chatter dissipated–and it was as if emptiness enveloped you from all corners of the room. The music had long stopped and you heard nothing but your irregular breathings and heartbeats, and it was then when you realized that he had literally swept you off your feet.