You'll do great, Love tells you, right before she picks you up and throws you on stage. As you land in a whirling ballet full of moves you never learned, Love tells you to move softly, caressing your throat with a gleaming dagger.
Don't misstep.
As you meet your partner, you stare for just a microsecond too long, swearing as you miss the beat.
A crimson drop appears.
You stumble.
More red.
You continue dancing with shaky legs, keeping an eye on Love at all times. There are no further mishaps, and you start to relax.
That's when you notice them. There are a thousand spectators, each of them wishing they were you.
Still, you dance on. You complement your partner perfectly.
Yes, you think. Yes. This is it. This is what I want. This is happiness.
The last thing you see before the fall is Love weeping in the eyes of your partner.
The music cuts off.
A scream.
Then nothing.
An eternity later, you pick yourself off the stage and hobble through an empty theater. Love waits for you at the door.
Come, she says. The next show is about to start.
A.N. Thought I'd try a different style of writing this time. What do you all think?
