We sat among silent serenades and supper as the silk sheets passed over us. In the gentle clinks of shining silverware and the nonexistent murmurs of small talk, the beating of hearts cried breathlessly. It was a spellbinding experience among the soirée—filled with mellow music and pleasant food—yet it lacked but one thing: courage.
We had all felt the need to protest; we had all known the passion of urgency. But amongst such mild company, along such wondrous decor and crystal grace, we sat so silently still as the silk sheet lapped us up in its clutch. A gentle shadow slowly pushed the color out of our table cloths, out of our ivory plates, and out of our exotic food.
And still we watched.
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