Jason's point of view, after Marie's death. Word: Dance.
Jason liked to go to crowded places, choose a spot, observe. It was at those times that he felt like he was not the only one without an identity—no one had a name, a face there. Not in those multitudes.
Tonight, impulsively, he had selected a club. He watched the anonymous mass undulate around him. A girl who had been eyeing him all evening finally gathered courage, approached.
"Do you dance?" The words were nearly swept away by the pounding music.
Jason considered.
"Yes." Tonight, he would not be Jason Bourne. He would simply be, another nameless face.