We Met at the Ball

Chapter One: The Girl

The sleek black car pulled itself to a gentle stop as she raised my head to watch as the driver's hazy figure stepped in front of the rain glossed window to draw open the door. The chill Parisian air kissed her face as she drew in a breath. The black heel placed itself on the concrete, followed by the deep violet dress, the silk lying calmly against the damp concrete. She smiled as she thanked the driver. The grandiose building stared at the girl as she waited, staring back. With a soft exhale she lifted her skirt a centimeter and watched the ornate doors draw closer as each heel clacked forward. The men at the door could only catch the soft rosy smile and copper hair drawn up in an elegant bun as she passed through the entrance. Greeted by the warm golden light of the ballroom, the girl glided between gowns and tuxedos as she journeyed for the center The ceiling opened, the walls widened, and the figures danced. She marveled at the room, the music that ebbed and flowed, and the pure feeling of being swept into a fairytale. And the figures danced and danced. Glimpses of smiles, skirts, and bodies moving in sync passed by her in a blur. She watched, hypnotized, as she inched ever closer. The crowd separating her and the dance floor thinned. One after another, each person passed. Then two figures moved and she saw him. He must have been there all that time, but seeing him appear was like magic. Her heels sat silent as the girl watched him. He was looking at the walls and ceiling, almost as if he wasn't engulfed by a sea of strangers. A dark blue suit. Stark blonde hair. Striking features. He was beautiful. The girl forgot herself as the world sped on around them, lost in the moment. Then he stirred. His eyes searched for a moment before his head turned. And there he was. She drew in a breath of wonder as his bright blue eyes met hers. Was this real? Was he real?