how did it come to this?
Dancing on linoleum tiles. Twirling around and around in circles; big circles, big circles giving way to smaller ones. A song from the sixties blaring from the radio on the plastic counter. Hand in hand, round and round they go. Her in a red dress, cropped oh so daringly above the knees; him in a knitted vest, hair slicked back. Neat.
Faster and faster they go. Round and around in circles, hands locked. The world outside is a blur. A flurry of maroon and white and sickly green. The fluorescent light blazes. The white tables, maroon chairs, green counter lights – they diminish: it’s only colours now; pretty colours straight out from a painting.
They’re dizzy. Laughter abounds. The music is gay – it is uplifting. Outside, the world is bleak. The grey world looks on at the seemingly maniac couple lost – lost in their own happy haven. Locked in their circle with colours twirling around them and the world blocked out he sees how pretty she is: lashes long and curled to the point of perfection; she sees how incredibly decent and well groomed he is.
Pity they never ever noticed it before. Dancing on linoleum tiles in a deserted diner, lost in the moment. Dancing on linoleum tiles until the music stops. Dancing on linoleum tiles until the colours fade and the world turns grey. Dancing on linoleum tiles until they part ways and get consumed by the bitterness and the cold once more.
