His memory follows the sounds she makes in dancing. He hums along. He can feel the breeze of every spin and twirl, feel the tremor of the floor as she lands lightly with a pointed toe.

The sweet scent of her, like lily of the valley, swirls a second behind her as she moves. It catches him like fingers delicately placed upon his heart. Every sense of her floats into the field of every sense he opens to her.

This is how she dances now, the only time she dances. And he claps softly at the end for he is the complete and total audience to a prima ballerina.