CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 816
They moved in perfect harmony to the static beat, the smiles on their faces wide and gleaming. The music blared out of a nearby car radio as their shoes scraped across rough car park gravel. The people nearby them cheered at such a display of random dancing, such a showing of vivacity. The music blared onwards, just as fast as it had previously been, but, then and there, the pair sped up their dancing, began to execute their steps faster and faster, as the world outside them became a blur, and they only had eyes for each other. While Michelle couldn’t quite match the expert execution of Ecklie’s steps, he had coached her, had shown her, what to do previously, and after some practicing at home, she had been able to do the best she could, without the decades of practicing he had had beforehand. Although the man with which she danced, was not the kindest or most warm hearted individual, he had gained the favour of many people because of his ability to dance well. The people around them, who were cheering at their display of movement, knew of his ability to find a beat and match it with steps improvised out of experience and love for the act of rapid, expressive dancing.
Ecklie extended his arms, dipping the woman he held hands with downwards, before twirling her close back to his body again. She smiled at him and he winked, and then, as the song drew to a close, he let go of her right hand and they swung outwards to face the crowd, faces bright, and shining as they bowed, his right hand still clasped tightly in her left. They left the improvised stage, and let another couple take their place as the radio begun to hum out a new song, something slower this time, more seductive. The crowd that was there, gave a hearty cheer to the new pair of entertainers, and the event continued. Las Vegas was a city of many cultures, of many people with many backgrounds. The group there was a mixture of Mexicans, Cubans and Brazilians, all living in the city for some reason or another, and who had left any differences between them, behind, in the seeking of dance, in the seeking of, companionship because of dance. Word had, somehow, in turn, reached Conrad Ecklie, and once invited, he had gone to, and joined in with, the festivities and the people who were there, who were present for no other reason but to dance and enjoy themselves.
“You do this often?” Michelle shouted over the cheering and the blaring music of the car radio. The man shrugged, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he kissed her lovingly on the forehead.
“I used to dance, more than I do now. When you dance, for as long as I have, you tend to be known in these unusual inner circles.” he replied, his voice trying to be loud above the vibrant cacophony of noise that surrounded them. He shrugged again and chuckled, his laughter lost to the wind, but his amusement evident. Pulling the woman towards him, the CSI hugged her, cradling her body in front of his chest as they watched the couple who now had taken the crowd’s attention. They looked almost unusual compared to the darker skin of the people around them. In the light of a slowly setting dusk, his pale skin with an olive tinge, and her obvious whiteness, put them out of place with the others around them. It didn’t matter though, because they had danced well enough to be acceptable and to have gained a general air of acceptance from those others at the event.
He loved to dance, and she loved him. Consequently, although it had been difficult at first, she had learned to love to dance also, because it was a time in which the pain that seemed so ever present in his eyes, lessened. When Conrad Ecklie danced, his wife could see, that he allowed himself, even if for a brief time, to forget some, but not all, or the horrors enacted on his family in the past. The man looked at her with loving eyes, and held her tight, and made sure she didn’t slip or fall or hurt herself. He knew that he had to focus on the moment, feel the movement, the dance, the spirit and being behind it. Conrad Ecklie knew, himself, that in dancing, just for a small amount of time he had to partially forget his pain, and let the dance take hold. It was all he could afford to do, and all he had ever allowed himself to do, because, while he could never forget what had happened to him, he could still enjoy the hurried, vibrant, ordered and fulfilling set of actions, that made up, and that was, dancing.