Her hair had plans. She was happy to follow.
The Second Earring
Mira had put on both earrings when her phone lit up.
I’m so sorry. Mum needs me tonight. I can’t make it.
She read the message with one hand still beside her ear.
On the bed lay the coat she had chosen that morning. Her shoes waited underneath it, pointing towards an evening that had included someone else.
She unfastened one earring.
Of course. Go and be with her, she typed. We’ll catch up tomorrow.
Then she stood in front of the mirror, holding the little black circle between her finger and thumb.
They had been talking about the dance night for weeks. Mira knew two of the songs from the poster. She had played one while getting ready and nearly caught her sleeve on the wardrobe handle.
She looked at the bare ear.
After a moment, she put the earring back.
One, Please
Outside the hall, someone had propped the door open with a wooden wedge. Music reached the pavement in a low, steady pulse.
Mira joined the short queue.
The woman in front bought three tickets. The man behind her was holding places for two friends who had gone back to their car.
At the table by the door, an older man looked up from a roll of tickets.
“How many?”
“One, please.”
He tore it off and passed it across.
“Coats on the left.”
Mira had been ready to explain about her friend. Instead, she thanked him and went in.
Along one wall stood a row of chairs. She left her coat on a hook, checked that both earrings were secure, and took a seat near the end.
On the floor, a loose circle of dancers moved beneath the warm lights. Someone missed a turn and came back laughing.
Mira watched through half a song.
Then the one she knew began.
The Part She Knew
She rose before the first verse had finished.
At the edge of the circle, she found the beat with a small shift of her feet. A woman beside her moved over, leaving enough room for her to join.
The opening steps came back easily. The next part did not.
Mira turned left while most of the circle went right. She stopped, let the movement pass, and came in again beside the same woman.
“That bit gets me too,” the woman said.
“I’m hoping they won’t play it twice.”
They did.
This time, Mira got halfway round before laughing at herself.
By the third song, she had stopped checking the chairs. Her feet followed what they could, and when they couldn’t, she waited for the beat to bring her back.
She danced with the circle, then beside two women who knew every turn. During a slower number, she found a little space of her own.
The roll she had twisted her hair into began to loosen.
She felt it against her neck and left it there until the song ended.
Still Going
Later, Mira collected her coat and stepped into the cool air.
She pulled out the last hairpin. Dark hair fell over her shoulders, warm at the roots from the crowded hall.
Behind her, the next song began.
She knew this one too.
Mira turned towards the open door. Her hair swept across her cheek, and she tossed it back with a quick movement of her head.
Her shoulders followed.
Then her feet.
One small turn carried her across the empty patch of paving beside the steps. Her hair swung wide and settled a moment after she did.
At the ticket table, the older man looked up.
“Going back in?”
Mira caught a long strand against her coat, but the ends slipped through her fingers.
She laughed and lifted them towards him.
“This lot hasn’t finished.”
From inside came the next bright beat.
She let her hair go.
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