The Flamenco Dancer

It was in old Barcelona where he saw her for the first time.  After a business meeting that had lasted for hours, he went out into the night.  Not feeling particularly tired, he decided to wander into a local establishment for something to drink.  There she was.

She turned and flowed on the stage as she danced.  Perhaps she reminded him of someone.  Perhaps she had been part of his life at some point.  But how?  He had never seen her before, yet after a few moments, she had become an obsession.

She danced for a time in her native dress, and to her native music.  She flowed and twirled, and he watched her through the smoke, the hushed conversations, the tiny candles, and the dim light.

During his time in old Barcelona, he would stand at his hotel room window, and he would look out at the old city.  He would stare at the distant lights, which became the tiny candles, and see her fleeting face in them.  She haunted him in his memory, as she danced through the shadows and smoke.

After his last scheduled meeting in old Barcelona, he quickly made his way back to the local establishment.  Another dancer was performing.  He paid for an extra night at the hotel where he was staying, and missed his scheduled flight back home.  On that extra night, a local guitar player played in the local establishment.

He remained in old Barcelona an extra week, in hopes of seeing her again, in hopes of watching her dance again, but other acts followed one after the other.  Inquiring about the dancer, not the barmaids, nor even the establishment's owner could answer.

The following night, he sat in his plane seat, and stared out at the old city while the plane began to rise.  Throughout the city, the lights became tiny candles again.  In his memory, he watched her as she twirled and turned amongst the shadows and smoke on the stage in that local establishment in old Barcelona.