The old woman sat in her chair, gazing out the window as the light faded around her. Her eyes glazed, she hardly noticed the deepening darkness of her tiny flat. The window’s light was all she needed.
The city seemed ablaze with life, young couples laughing, children dancing in the puddles of an evening shower. Steam from vents in the sidewalk rose like ghosts, twirling and leaping in the wind. The woman’s dreams pirouetted with the translucent figures, dancing together away above the lights of humanity, transient and unreal.
A knock at the door shocked Louisa from her reverie. Slowly shaking her head, the knock came again, harsh, urgent.
“Coming,” she croaked, her frail hands struggling with the wheels of her chair. Its wooden slats creaked with the floor as Louisa approached the door. She fumbled with the locks and asked, “who is it?”
“An old friend,” a low voice replied.
Louisa pulled the door open slowly. A man, squarely build with white, wispy hair stood clasping his hat to his chest with both hands.
“Still so graceful,” the man muttered.
Louisa stared.
“May I come in?” he said more loudly.
“Do I know you?” she whispered, voice hoarse with misuse.
“Louisa,” the man reached out a hand, pleading with his dark, deep set eyes.
Louisa stared searchingly at his face, trying to imagine it with smoother, younger skin. But those eyes...
She gasped quietly.
“Erik?”
A grin split the man’s paper cheeks, eyes finding a twinkle in the dim light of the hall. “My Louis-”
“I thought you were married.”
“That was a long time ago. I-”
“I thought you were dead.”
Erik’s face hardened, yet the twinkle never disappeared.
“May I come in?” he repeated.
Louisa pulled back into the shadows, turning away silently. Erik moved forward, pushing the door shut behind him, leaving the room in darkness, the only light from the window.
“Do you always live in the dark?” he remarked cheerfully. A dim bulb flickered on, revealing Louisa’s frail form turned towards the window.
“Why are you here?” she whispered, voice wavering; whether with age or something else, Erik could not tell.
“Do you remember when Luke bumped me, and you almost fell?” Erik laughed roughly. “You refused to dance with me for a month - Renee was furious!”
“And you thought it was a great joke, teasing my perfectly rational fears,” Louisa hissed, turning towards him in her chair.
“I never dropped anyone, even as a boy!”
“You always were so strong.”
Her eyes met Erik’s.
Tears welled in her watery blue eyes, eyes that always seemed to pierce Erik’s soul.
“Louisa,” he whispered, kneeling by her chair, “I’ve missed you.”
“Erik,” she paused for what seemed like an eternity, “I’m so lonely. I feel so trapped; my body’s betrayed me.”
“I heard about the accident.”
Louisa turned away.
“I can’t dance with you anymore,” she muttered, so quietly Erik almost didn’t hear.
“Louisa,” he said firmly, “you will always be my prima ballerina.”
Erik reached up to brush Louisa’s cheek, catching a tear as it fell.
“How did you find me?”
“Eh - Dr. Winslow is a talker. I mentioned you a few weeks ago, my dear, and he happened to mention that he sees you as well. From there, well, I will always find you, my Louisa.”
“I haven’t seen you in decades.”
Erik was silent.
“What happened to Yvette?”
“It didn’t work out.”
“Ah.”
Erik looked around, “I wouldn’t suppose you have any chairs for an old man to sit in, do you?”
“I have no need of chairs.”
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