I had almost forgotten the recent past and seeing the young woman brought it all back; the puzzling meeting at the roadhouse and the incoherent escape from the encroaching headlights. Her intentions had been oblique and shrouded, no more so than at the town of mad animals where she had cocooned herself in her own nature.

And now she sat in this gloomy hall, ignoring both the meandering recital and the younger man who sat nearby, coveting her. I felt insubstantial, like a tourist watching a re-enactment of past glories, merely a spectator to the game of life. The man approached her and asked her name, a simple thing but one that had not occurred to me in all our time together. I almost heard her reply.

Soon they were dancing in the afternoon light, as dust motes circled them like the fluttering notes of the organ. I was unsure of my own emotions, being unwilling to plumb them to their full depth. It was as though my youth had supplanted me and I was unable to appreciate the beauty of the moment.

An ancient couple shuffled slowly around the dance floor in a counterpoint to the young couple. As I left the Tea Dance I realized that I didn’t belong there or indeed anywhere at that moment. Just existing wasn’t enough but it would have to do. What choice did I have?