Alone (a moment)

Alone, in a room lit only with the flickering of a dozen burning candles, a man stands and slowly dances, his arms extended, curved, holding in their emptiness nothing more than a ghost, the memory of that which he once held most dear. The only real love of his life. But she is here with him no more. Perlman's violin plays the melody that stretches the ache within him beyond mortality. The song he danced to, with her, in this very room, amid these very candles, times beyond count, every one distinct and precious to him, more so than his very own breath. He would give up that breath if he could, gratefully, in the longing of his desire, an exchange in time, to have her here for one more song. One last dance, again.