Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

They have plenty of room for dancing…

I see Friday night settle into his blue eyes as I walk into the closet.

The light switch gives in to my finger.

Music crawls from the fixture over head, a moss covering the white ceiling.

My reflection is trying on heels in the full length mirror.

“Baby doll, let’s get dressed up,” he says, leaning against the doorway, flashing a smile.

“I’d love to, but where are we going?”

“Nowhere, darling…”

My little black dress begins to move it’s hips on the hanger.

Leave a Reply