Dance Time

The couple had been told their dance would end at midnight. So they counted every turn, saved their best steps for later and watched the clock instead of each other. The clown drove their hippopotamus carriage faster, hoping to outrun the final chime. At eleven fifty-nine the hippo walked into the sea and stopped. ‘We’ll miss everything!’ they cried.

Beneath the surface, fish moved in a rhythm without numbers. The couple stepped down and followed. Midnight passed unnoticed. Their clothes grew heavy, their dance became clumsy, and both began laughing.

When they returned to shore, the clock still insisted the evening was over. The sea disagreed. So did their feet. Time had ended only the performance, not the dance.