I draw my hand away. “Ghosts.”

Our eyes meet and a chill creeps up my neck.

“No ghosts,” he says, extending his hand again. “Dance with me?”

“There’s no music.”

“I know,” he says.

I take his hand, curiosity getting the better of me and something shivers through me at his touch. A familiarity. An instinct. I stare into his calm blue eyes and swallow the question that wanders onto my lips as he leads me into a sweeping waltz. He meets my gaze and I know him.

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.

THE END