He struck a chord with me, unlike any other. He lit a fire that burned and crackled with a smell that ignited memories of somewhere in time. He turned to me and held my hand, while tenderly twirling me around to the soft tunes of the music.
As I twirled round and round, I felt free. Free to feel the warmth of the fire, his hands around my waist, free to be happy as I danced the night away. I was happy, I was no longer hiding inside myself, in captivity, yearning to be heard, and loved. I was in love, and in love with me was he.