The Ballerina

He was wrapping the long scarf around his neck, getting ready to go out. It was too late to catch the train, he would have to walk down to the bus stop and wait, but that was okay. Nowhere to be tonight, and no need to get up early tomorrow. He also had a good book in his bag.

From where he was standing, he could see the well-lit room where they practiced. It was so late, but the music was still playing, and he could see her from time to time when she happened to come into view. So light and slim, like a paper figure spinning in the breeze, she appeared and disappeared at a whim. He craved the sight of her butt cheeks and the small of her back, her white leggings and black top. He wanted to look at her neck and her hair, done up so tight.

Then he stepped outside, through the cold, to the faraway apartment. He knew he would touch himself tonight thinking about her. Was it love, or just loneliness?

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk