The Professor’s Dancer

“Did you make a decision, or did you just settle?” asked the professor.

The dancer stopped, looked at him quizzically, and spun away in defense.

“Stop that,” he said irritated, “I want to know the answer.”

The dancer spun and spun and lept and kicked, as the professor pursued.

As she approached the edge of the stage, she turned towards him and smiled. Tip-toeing backwards, she let herself begin to fall.

A rush of chiffon and nude brushed the air between them, as the worried professor dashed forward catching her in his arms.

He stood there holding her, still waiting for the answer.

“Neither,” she said, “You felt like a long-lost friend, like part of my soul family, like someone who had waited for me for a long time.

You felt like both comfort and growth, like standing still and moving, like a second still passing though the minutes and hours had stopped.

It is not logical, Professor, but it makes sense to me.

“I didn’t make a decision, but I also didn’t settle.

You just feel right.”