No random chatter or mobile phones chirping. No whispered conversations. No creaking of chairs from people shifting in their seats. All eyes were riveted on the darkened stage. The anticipation in the room was palpable, as though the entire audience held a collective breath. Then the music started, and the haunting notes from the orchestra reached out to the corners of the crowded darkness and held those within spell-bound. On stage, the lights snapped up, a spotlight highlighting the single figure in the center. With the rest of the audience, Jaron sucked in a breath. Grace. Her head bowed, she started to move, and he was lost. The rest of the room fell away and ceased to exist; nothing mattered but the woman center stage. Her graceful, almost feline movements as she swayed then burst into movement. Pirouettes, turns, stances. Jaron leaned back in his chair, elbow on the arm, his chin supported on his hand as he watched.
