Her posture, stiff and unyielding, contrasted sharply with the lightness of our dance. It was as if she was a statue, her eyes fixed on us with an intensity that was hard to ignore.
But the girl’s laughter, her joy, was a beacon that kept me focused. As we swayed to the music, I found myself caught between the warmth of our shared moment and the chill of the woman’s gaze.
“Do you come here often?”
Her words surprised me, breaking the silence between us. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
I nodded, unsure of what else to say. The gym was my domain, a place where I could lose myself in the routine of my work.
“You dance well,” she said, her eyes shining with a sincerity that took me aback.
The compliment caught me off guard, a small kindness that felt like a balm to my unease. I smiled, grateful for the momentary reprieve from the tension that hung in the air.
As the song came to an end, we stood together, the girl’s hand still resting lightly in mine. Her smile was a gift, one that I carried with me as I returned to my work.
But the woman’s presence lingered, a question unanswered, a thread left dangling in the tapestry of the afternoon.
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