The Night We Met
Calloused hands held my wrist and led me through the dark promenade, circling around the spiraling columns reaching out to the heavens. Stars blinked, peeking into the darkness to get a glimpse, and I looked up, admiring the way they shone upon us. The walk there was slow, peaceful, eternity in its purest. We finally reached the garden, right outside the main hall, as the faint tremble of violins wafted through the icy cold night.
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The garden was shrouded in night, but the moon saved the day, casting its ethereal glow over us as a spotlight, just for the two of us. The violins rose and fell, each note a soar across the channel. I shook my shoes off, and my feet relaxed into the fresh grass beneath. The cold jolted me awake, my heart pounding as I took a step forward. We held hands, the only source of warmth on a cold night.
Then we danced, danced throughout the night, till our feet ached. One step in front of the other, as we swished about, clothing billowing in the wind. Our feet slowly crunched the grass, as we deliberately moved, not wanting the night to end. Eyes were only for each other, as we drowned out all other noise from our little bubble. This is my idea of heaven, and it will be for the rest of my life.
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A little no pronouns challenge. Inspired by The Night We Met by Lord Huron, one of my favourite songs. Hope you enjoy, whoever’s reading this.
