PC: Gil Inoue
The first time I saw him he was the deepest note in the room. Melodies trailed behind him like Christmas sparklers catching fire in his hair. He was the alphabet and the rhythm, and every awkward step was poetry. The air left the room, and holding my breath I listened. Blue eyes met brown. A thousand folded messages fluttered like paper planes against the music, across the room, and into my heart. In the moment's sway we danced palm to sweaty palm. We danced until we never stopped dancing.