Finding Paris

La Vie En Rose

You are so awkwardly beautiful.

That was the last thing he said that night at the dance.

That's where we met, at this dance, just like in "Tuesdays with Morrie", only instead of a Wednesday, it was held every Thursday. Somehow, people got hold of the book and started playing really old songs and a few new ones at the park while most people who came to dance closed their eyes to feel the cold breeze kiss their cheeks. They swayed their arms freely as if they were flying. It was a lovely sight.

We held hands the first night. We never spoke a word, never asked for each other's names. We just held hands and, with our eyes closed, danced under the moonlit park with 1950s songs on a boring Thursday night. We did this for two months.

On the first Thursday of the third month, as we held hands and danced, he said as he looked straight to my eyes, a smile creeping up his face, "Hey, you are so awkwardly beautiful." And it was all over. I knew it was. As Edith Piaf ended La Vie En Rose, our hands slipped away and off we go our separate ways. We did not say goodbye. We did not know each other, let alone our names. We never looked back.