it was his final fleeting opportunity. tell her. love her. his hands, clammy and moist, aching to touch her gentle fingers as they rested on his shoulder.

two silent bodies swaying awkwardly to a nearly inaudible tune of irrelevant notes. drifting farther away from the crowd of faceless people, he stole a scent of her perfume. sweet and tempting, her countenance in a bottle.

he smiled. last chance to tell her. last shot at winning her over with his charm that the audience acknowledged and loved.

drawing apart with a stutter, he let his eyes meet hers in a confident stare. he remained silent, his charm unexpectedly stolen by one look of a face too innocent to be saddened by meaningless kisses and secret rendez-vouses.

he turned away with another casual smile, averting his suddenly bashful gaze. surprised by his unplanned feeling of inadequacy, he took to the balcony.