The music slowed down. The wine was kicking in. She was swinging her wide hips, the red skirt she bought that morning for her blind date grazing her calves. Her feet had stopped hurting in her heels about an hour before, numb from standing on them in front of the cafe - waiting. But he never came. She texted her friends and joined them at the bar where she knew they would be. She ordered a bottle of red and drank most of it.
That's when she went on the dance floor. There were a few couples there, but she went alone. She said she just wanted to move, she wanted to dance, she didn't want to sit anymore. She raised her hands in the air, moved her head from side to side to the rhythm of the music. She started turning, slowly to not lose her balance but fast enough that her buzz met her mood, dizzy and sad. She still clutched her wine glass, one foot then the other, moving to the beat, moving to the rhythm, moving her body. She loved the song. She wanted it to last forever.
And it seemed to. The song seemed to keep going and never stop. So she kept dancing. She didn't notice that she was the only one left there. The only one still dancing. The only one still swaying to the music in the dark bar, clutching her empty glass of red.