The Last Tap Dance

Lena sat in the corner of the bedroom, surrounded by handles of vodka that she had finished off over the course of the last week. It smelled like sex. And not new sex. Sex from three days ago sex. She still hadn't showered since he left. Maybe it was in hopes of his return--that he would come to his senses--whatever those may have been. That he would realize that although they didn't need each other, he wanted to be there with her, night after night, in that very bedroom.

She put on a purple satin dress he bought her once when they had intended to go window shopping. He said that next to her, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. So it was only fitting that she should have it. The hours passed and now she stood in the mirror and sang Jo Stafford. "See the pyramids along the Nile...just remember darling all the while..." It was a depressing state of affairs.

The hot air from the swamp wafted through the window, as it always did this time of night, with a doubtful agenda. And just as it took her breath away, she was able to shut her eyes and think of what he used to whisper to her when they lay in bed.

"Hold my hand," he said each night. And they would fall asleep fingers clasped, unaware of time's intention to undo it all without so much as an apology.