Marjorie Eveningstar

As Marjorie Eveningstar stood behind the white, gossamer curtain in the doorway, she peeked into the large, crowded dance hall. She felt the curtain on her face as it played with the summer breeze.

She had put on her best false eyelashes and her reddest lipstick—and even plucked her eyebrows—before coming here.

She was ready.

After taking a deep breath, Marjorie walked into the dance hall. Beads of sweat formed all over her body, and her makeup felt oozy.

“Get it together, girl!” she told herself.

Marjorie heard a voice from behind, asking, “Would you like to dance?”

When she spun around, she was pleased to see a man who lived in her neighborhood.

“Yes, I’d love to!”

The man took her in his arms, and it was magical. There was a comfortable feeling between them even though they had never talked before.

“What is your name?”

“Marjorie Eveningstar.”

“You dance like a dream, my dear.”

“And you are the most confident and smoothest dancer I’ve ever had the pleasure of dancing with, sir.”

 

They couldn’t stop staring at each other. Their bodies buzzed with excitement, ease, and joy. Dance after dance, they glided as one and felt weightless.

At the end of the night, they knew something wonderful had happened, and they didn’t want it to end.

The man took Marjorie’s hand and walked her home in silence. When they got to her door, he turned and looked into her eyes.

“I’ve seen you many times,” he said softly, “but I was always too nervous to talk to you. Meeting you tonight was a lucky break. I got up the nerve to ask you to dance, and you said yes.”

Marjorie returned his look and added, “I’ve seen you many times too. I almost didn’t come here tonight because I was nervous too. Before I came, I decided to say yes to opportunities. I said yes to you, and I’m very glad I did.”

The man held Marjorie’s arm and whispered, “Thank you.”

Marjorie slowly nodded, never expecting something like this to happen, and he watched her walk away.

In her apartment, she sat in the overstuffed, white chair near the window and watched her own gossamer curtains dance in the summer breeze.

She thought about the man and smiled. She couldn’t remember ever having a better time with a stranger. Something in his eyes warmed her heart, and she wanted to know him better.

As the man walked home, he thought about Marjorie and smiled. He couldn’t remember ever having a better time with a stranger. Something in her eyes warmed his heart, and he wanted to know her better.


From Carpet Creatures: Tales from the Deep Pile 
(Catalog #67-7)

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