Love and Other Bugs

1: Serotonin

I stood frozen in the center of the room, the music begging me to move. Over an hour passed with my feet still planted on the ground. No matter how much I had pushed myself to practice over the past year, it seemed that my desire to dance faded more each day.

I kept my eyes closed, knowing if I opened them I would only see my own disappointed gaze staring back at me from the wall of mirrors. I folded my arms across my chest, gripping my biceps in a tight embrace as I fell into a slight swaying motion.

No matter how hard I focused I couldn't seem to remember any choreography, at least not more than a few moves at a time. I'd listened to every song I'd danced to in college, all my old playlists, and not a single note had managed to inspire me. It was like a part of me had died, and I didn't know why.

"So this is what you do with your studio?" Eric's sudden presence in the doorway startled me, the jolt of adrenaline up my spine was the closest thing to inspiration I'd felt all day, "Stand in the middle of the room and listen to music?"

"No," I strolled over to my phone, docked on the credenza, and paused the music, "I just haven't been inspired to dance lately. I can't force it."

"You can't force yourself to just.. dance?" He raised a sharp eyebrow, straightening his red silk tie and remaining a step outside the doorway.

"Maybe I'm overthinking it."

"I'm sure you'll get there. I'll be home for dinner."

"I'll see you tonight." I met him in the doorway and kissed his clean-shaven cheek. "I love you"

"Love you too. Break a leg."

He pecked a kiss on top of my head then turned and strode down the stairs. I stared at the empty staircase after he'd left my view, waiting for the sound of the front door closing behind him before drifting back inside my studio. I had been headed for my phone, intending to turn my playlist back on and spend another hour praying for the passion to spontaneously reappear.

Instead I ended up at the window, drawing back the sheer curtains to gaze out at the yard, my aimless sights settling on Silas. He was hard at work guiding the riding-mower through the endless sea of grass backing our estate. His entire body was glistening with sweat under the rising California sun, his twisted chestnut hair clinging to his forehead, wet with perspiration. He reached up to comb it out of his face with his fingers, the lean muscle and prominent veins of his forearms etching into the smooth surface of his olive skin. Watching him, even up close, you would never guess he wasn't real.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he looked up at my studio window and his stoic gaze met mine through the glass. He offered a wave, generating a pleasant smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. His perpetual stare remained vacant.

I turned away before the flush of color could rise in my cheeks, knowing he would see it even from this distance. As I faced the silent, empty room once again, Eric's words resounded in my mind.

"You can't force yourself to just.. dance?"

I uncrossed my arms, balling my hands into tight fists at my sides. With a straight spine and a stern expression I marched back over to where my phone was docked, and I hit "play". A familiar song hummed through the built-in sound system and I returned to my place in the center of the room, I took a deep breath and forced my body to move.

I pushed myself to keep going long past my breaking point, my body strained and my movements refused to be anything but jagged and uncoordinated. Nothing was coming to me. I was flailing around hopelessly, no rhythm or direction. I faced away from the mirror, so I could keep my eyes open without having to watch myself stumble through song after song.