Wisps of smoke circled the room as music from the forties brought back memories of a lost time. The lights were dim as couples danced on a wooden dance floor, wrapped in each other's embrace, when nothing else mattered. Her hair smelled like lilacs, and her scent like an invisible mist taking him hostage in just one dance.
They had met there years ago when men went off to war and women took over factory jobs left vacant by fighting soldiers. It was a dimly lit basement with stone walls and round tables, a place to go to try to forget the world above.
Years passed, bringing peace, as life changed drastically, and post-war dreams became reality, leaving behind stolen moments in a basement bar. He was drawn to that place many times, taking a table in the back and listening to the music they once danced to on a well-worn wooden dancefloor scarred by age.
He knew the odds were against him, but he never gave up that one day she would walk in, surrounded by a lilac mist he could close his eyes and remember. He never could get her out of his mind, but the hope of seeing her stayed with him every time he took a seat at a back table, staring at the door, his heart skipping a beat when someone entered, only to be disappointed once again.
He passed away at that table, lying his head down, listening to the music fade away with a smile on his face as the scent of lilacs surrounded him in an invisible mist.
Mike 2025
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