You are still dancing to beauty and a burning violin. On summer fields embraced by the descending night. Under the stars and the brazing sun. On red-hot sand dunes and through cool, salty waves.

You need desperately, urgently, to dance. For the gentleman to grab you around the waist and carry you through the sea of couples. Navigating between dusty corners and a crowded bar, polished down to a smooth, mahogany red.

Oh yeah baby, you are dancing, substituting the object of desire with a steel vacuum cleaner handle. iPhone in the back pocket, you sweep up gray dust bunnies and forgotten cobwebs. You move around boxes and rummage through your life in the past 10 years. A decade that will soon come to a close.

So there you are darling, skipping, playing, smiling to a daunting task that won’t be ready for weeks. But now you are not counting down the days, you are just dancing….to the end of love.