The padding footsteps come closer, the hesitation, the lingering hand just above the world weary brass doorknob.
All this will amount to the realisation that free spirits can not be tethered or tied. The best dances always end, suspended in the minds of rhythmic fools looking for their lost paradise.
The turning twisting guilt ridden conscious gives way to erotic abundance.
Splayed across the silken ocean, drunk on forlorn promises and misguided visions, they float towards the surface of reality. Awash on their raft constructed from hidden moments, illusions and lies. So many lies.
She wishes he'd go, he wishes she'd let him stay. Misgivings are voiced, the same redundant responses are reissued; blandly without explanation. Once spent there is no more currency to invest in a lost cause.
Blindly, somewhat smugly, he wades towards the door - no more lingering, twisting - just swift action. Escape.
She remains in her room, burying her broken treasured memories deep in the depths of forgotten encounters that have failed to yield. Reclaiming her room, she cuts the raft free in her mind.
'You are gone,' she remarks to no-one in particular except her soul.'For good'.