From a series of short form fictions taking inspiration from collage.
I’d once loved Alec, but not now, not anymore. After six months together, I realised I felt nothing for him, no affection, no attraction. I didn’t actively dislike him, but a feeling of complete emptiness had taken over. The situation had become undeniable.
Over the last few weeks I’ve drifted away and become less available to him. Soon, I realised I had more fun doing things without him – things I knew he had no interest in. A weekly contemporary dance class I discovered, was one such activity. I loved the idea of dancing, but had not attended formal lessons ever before. On impulse, I signed up.
I’m not exactly an outgoing type of person; I prefer the environment of a library as opposed to a nightclub. And yet, since going to the dance class, I’d felt my inhibitions begin to fall away. One had to let this happen naturally, the teacher had told me. I was not to try to force it or be anything I wasn’t. Over time, he said, I would locate an open door, give myself permission to walk through, and dance.
Class exercises were designed to facilitate bonding. I can still recall the sense of trepidation when I fell backwards for the first time – and with my eyes closed, into the arms of Mira. We were instructed to repeat. The predictability of falling backwards eventually gave way to a random physical collapse. Each time Mira caught me and from there, a dance routine evolved, set to music played on piano by the choreographer. We swapped roles back and forth. Our improvisation received encouragement, attained complexity, while remaining effortless.
I’m not sure if I’ve described this adequately – but placed altogether, it was an incredible experience. To put it simply, that’s when I fell in love with Mira.