character study by the light of the morning

I can never remember dances the morning after, and last night we danced longer than usual. It is, perhaps appropriately, a blur of motion and passion and music. And we danced until we couldn't dance anymore and then went back to her hotel room and talked about how sore we were, how sore we were going to be, and it was in happy tones--it was a good kind of soreness. We didn't want the night to ever end but we were too tired to keep it going. I took a shower and by the time I got back to bed she was sound asleep, still wearing that red dress. I smiled and climbed into bed next to her.

We slept.

Somehow morning changes everything. I was still sore and not at all in a good way. She woke up when I stirred and sat bolt upright, hair a mess, no longer the peaceful image of a girl who'd danced until she couldn't keep her eyes open but someone who's been disturbed and isn't happy about it.

"What time is it?"

"I don't know. Morning."

She grunted and laid back down on the bed, draping an arm over her eyes. "It's so bright. Make the bright go away."

"I'm afraid I can't."

She sighed. After a long silence she looked at me with one eye and said, "Well, I had fun last night."

But there was something about how she said 'last night' that made it more than just that. She italicized the words. She distanced herself from them. It was emphasized in just such a way, as if to say, "The fun did not survive to the morning. It stayed in the evening when we were dancing and happy.

I tried to ignore this fact as I asked if she wanted coffee. She said, "Do you have any earl grey?"

We did.

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