Fantastic dancing silhouettes
There they were...
He didn't know how they reappeared in his room.
Twenty years had passed since the last time he had gone on stage with them.
Strange, but they still retained their pinkish hue.
He placed them tenderly against his chest.
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The flow of sensations that this simple act revived in her was indescribable.
A tear ran quickly down her cheek.
She looked at me and smiled excitedly.
Their reunion was fortunate, unplanned. I saw it.
She remembered when, together, they drew fantastic silhouettes in the nothingness.
They turned, turned, turned tirelessly, bathed in the silver of the Moon.
She, mad with joy, seemed to hang from the musical notes that permeated the atmosphere.
Until one day... “Lift her up! Lift her up! Take her in for a check-up!”
Days later, the doctor's sentence: "That's all; you shouldn't try again."
It was there that the separation made its arrival.
Since then, his mother avoided talking to him about them.
But now they were back.
“Start over again?” he asked, looking at them intently.
“Of course!” she answered herself.
He then slowly moved in his wheelchair until he reached the edge of his bed.
There he leaned and, as best he could, took his languid feet, once sculpted and resistant, in his hands.
He managed to fit the pair of old slippers into them.
Closing his eyes, he was suddenly transported to a parallel world.
She stood there, unscathed, inspired, as in her best days.
Her graceful and elegant movements emerged from behind the scenes.
He let himself be carried away by an enigmatic melody that unnerved his senses.
Her heart raced as uncontrollable tears of happiness gripped her.
She and the newcomers, now on their feet, turned, turned, and turned tirelessly.
Mad with joy, they once again hung on to the musical notes that filled the air.
And they drew, like never before, fantastic silhouettes in the void.
A new stage, a debut that no one applauded.
Music, spins, flights, images, an indomitable spirit.
Start over? “Of course!” she repeated to herself.
The vision was so real that she was trapped in it... never to wake up.
Will she ever see the pink hue of her sneakers on her languid feet again?
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