“I’m Leo,” he said against her hair.
When the synth chords of “Cheri Cheri Lady” began their hypnotic pulse, the few other patrons ignored it. But Elara didn't. She closed her eyes, and a single, unexpected tear traced a clean path through her powder. cheri cheri lady
The “Cheri Cheri Lady” wasn't a ghost anymore. It was just the prologue. “I’m Leo,” he said against her hair
He squeezed her hand. “You’re not a stranger anymore.” She closed her eyes, and a single, unexpected
He led her to the small, scuffed dance floor. The song wasn't a slow dance. It was an urgent, desperate, beautifully eighties plea. But they didn't move to the beat. They moved to the ache beneath it. He held her like she was made of spun glass; she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath the flannel.