clouds between their knees

it is may.
they are friends.
they dance, for the first, for the last time.
the day has been conspiratorial, and they sway and shuffle on a single square meter, sequestered in the evening light.
the day's feathers and finery allow them an almost anonymous intimacy; indulgent affection lifts them above his youthful awkwardness and beyond her impossible expectations.
their distance, their silence, is warm, companiable, compatible:
three minutes and forty-one seconds long.