Today's flash fiction is inspired by Ravel's Boléro.
She walks with purpose, placing each foot carefully in front of her.
He sits silently at the bar. The glass lamps glow red. He lifts his eyes.
She holds her head high, her dark hair swept back. Her neck is pale, tinted pink by the light.
He orders another drink.
She sheds her cape and sits two seats down at the bar.
He stands, stiff from routine and drink. He turns away from her.
She gestures and a drink is set in front of her. Red wine.
He's seen her here before.
She's seen him here before.
He turns, smoothing his hair back.
She pivots on her chair. Her black dress shivers as she moves, catching the light.
He lifts his jacket from the back of his chair and shakes the wrinkles out.
She lifts her wine.
He leans against the bar and finishes his drink.
She wipes lipstick from the rim of her glass. Red like wine. Red like the light.
He turns toward her.
She smiles softly. Her dark eyes shine. She stands.
He puts on his jacket.
She walks with purpose toward the door.
He follows silently.