Sway.

Ain't this how all fairytales begin? I'm pretty positive it's a story we have all heard before. A girl wanders alone at midnight, stars are shining low, and the moon whispers his early hellos. She has travelled from everywhere but here. She is skipping street after street, darkness after darkness when outcasted dogs start to roar. She imagines her luck must have ran out for it can't get any worse, right when it starts to pour. But finally, she catches the glimpse of lights gathering from an empty tavern into which she steps. She hurries to the the bar, and soon she witnesses the musty shell of a man with a wine glass in his hand. The girl thinks the man is different and sits at a distance. The man doesn't notice her for he lives in a world of his own; one full of flickering ambiguity and twingeing past. Music playing.. Bodies swinging.. Hands touching.. And just like that, they declare their heated dance.

And then, oh boy! she smiles.. An enchantment she is used to make, and just like that, with a snap of her fingers, he is enslaved. His soul is kept prisoner by none other than the tan in her eyes. His mind has lost a heart, and his heart has lost it all. The girl wonders what kind of cosmic joke the universe must be playing at her expense for she too feels her heart is out of control.. Out of beat.. Out of rhythm.. Out of sync.. Out of life at core. But the girl worries too much, the man would say. She worries of a future far-fetched from her grasp. She says, 'how will I love my crooked neighbour with my crooked heart? How will our love survive the test of time? How will it not crumble? How will it not decay?'. The man would laughingly respond, 'You are awfully philosophical for someone who has just been in love.'

In the end, as it always did, mischief won the war. Her worries have turned true and their beams became blue. The man beat himself up for not seeing it through. They were just too young to beat time, and what a trickster time was. There were tears and torments at their final goodbyes. They exited the tavern and the man was dust. She called his name but he was no longer anyone.