I arrived at the ball with a group of friends. He was standing in the foyer with some people I vaguely knew, awaiting the rest of his party. He smiled at me.
‘Hello!’ And kissed me on both cheeks. ‘How are you?’
‘Hi! I’m well thanks,’ I said. ‘You?’
Also well. We could both have been dying and we’d still have been well. We went our separate ways.
The penultimate Semenax dance. I was without a partner; people were lining up. I saw X standing on the sidelines (not dead yet) and went over to him.
‘Erm do you have a partner for this one?’
He’d said hello; I figured I was allowed to claim some degree of acquaintance.
‘No I don’t,’ he said. ‘Let’s dance it.’
He led me onto the floor.
We danced. We chatted. He asked what my surname was, I told him what his was, we confessed to our respective jobs, I thanked him for the dance. And we went our separate ways.
Or did we?