May I Have This Dance?

It's late April and the Georgia rains are pouring down, scouring the world of all it's unpleasantness. I'm standing on my rooftop alone, having smoked my last cigarette, I resigned myself to watch the people of my small town scurry to and fro like so many lab mice.

A couple catches my eye. A man and a woman, holding hands and strolling down the street as if it weren't raining at all. I am completely lost watching these two, so obvious in love even from five stories up, their smiles lighting up the overcast afternoon. He looks to be about a full foot taller than she, his hair is dark and wild from the rain. Her hair is golden blonde and pulled into pigtails. Even though the cleansing rain pelts her face, she still looks up at him with a smile more radiant than the sun.

The street is deserted now except for the three of us. I feel like I am intruding, but I can't seem to tear myself away from the two of them laughing and splashing about; while I stand alone up here on my perch. He bows to her, takes her hand and they dance in the rain on the deserted street with nothing but the symphony of the driving rain as their music. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

The door to the roof access opens and suddenly she is behind me, her warm body pressed against mine.

I can hear the smile in her voice as her arms wrap around me, "You'll catch your death of cold."

I turn to face her and, returning her smile, I ask: "May I have this dance?"