On the Title: 35 mm is the size of film used to take photographs, and since this is a collection of almost-snapshots of the Bebop crew's life, it seems appropriate.
On the drabbles: These works will range from real drabbles (100 words or less) to short, short stories. Some will be loosely connected, some not. I have a list of 100 themes, but I can't positively say I will write 100 of these. All of this to say, just keep an open mind...
"The Last Dance"
She asks him to dance with her for the first time on a Sunday. She is wearing a robe and her hair is wrapped in a towel and she looks so…here he struggles for the words…so open, that he does, holding her just close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, knowing that she used all of the hot water, and finding that he doesn't care. The music that time is some slow waltz…here he remembers that Jet likes to cut his trees to that kind of music…
The second time she doesn't ask at all, just holds her hand out and he takes it in his and spins her around, her hair whipping in the wind, obscuring the emeralds that she calls eyes, and he inhales the scent of sunshine that follows her….here he thinks that she smells of sunshine even when she cries…They dance to a street performer, an old man with a guitar and a bongo drum that he switches between without order. When they stop dancing she is breathless and laughing and alive and happy in a way that he's never seen before…and here he is sure that he will never see it again…
Now he's sitting on the old, faded yellow couch, looking up at those emeralds and smelling that sunshine, and for the first time he asks her, "Dance with me, Faye?" He doesn't need to say it, but he does anyway, "dance with me…once last time."
Her sadness is almost tangible, he can almost hold it, but he can't and so he holds her instead. She's frail in his arms, shaking…
There is no music this time.
A/N: Review please.
