It was a youth dance party-evening. First party-evening with Sati. Arti was feeling his warm blood rising up through the veins and turning into a heartbeat. Everything was shouting: girls, boys, music, dances. A flood of lights, a storm of emotions, a performance of faces and blink of eyes.
The music was turning into a overflow of emotions in his soul. But you, Sati, you were more than that music, you were more sparking than the most memorable tune. Your black and big eyes, shiny and full of life, were more than everything here. The music, the noise, and cries were mixed with the mad thoughts in Arti’s imagination, and were turning into a love storm, a light wind, a delightful smell of flowers and green fields, a whisper of the leaves on the trees; than becoming a rain and lightning, a storm, an endless thoughts and dreams, and a struggle to reach the final goal and a fight for ultimate victory.
Let it be this music, let it sound louder and go on forever, let it direct young brains, wrap up appropriate thoughts and awaken their dreams. Let this music talk about their first dance. First dance, the first, do you guess what this means, he has to dance with her? Incredible. Then the second dance will follow, and later the third one. How his spirit is driven, how his heart beats? Sati seemed so far and inaccessible, her hair, smell, eyes lightning - all these he owns now. Sati, too, seems a jailbird, intolerantly awaiting his invitation. Music, dances: Tango, Waltz, Foxtrot, Charleston, Twist, Boogie, Rock and Roll ... How long Arti had waited for this starry hour of his life.
Suddenly, lightning flashes from the sky. The fat young man announces with a drunken voice:
- White tango. Only girls are inviting.
Arti's heart beats with excitement. At that moment Sati's slim stature appears and he is invited to dance.
Surprisingly, confused and crazy, Arti rises from his place, grasping Sati's hand, and hugging her thin waist with the other, and starts moving slowly back and forward, as if skating in the empty space. A dreamy joy.
Next time he invites Sati to dance the Waltz. They were going crazy, and the music was filling his heart with new life, She was in His arms, He was Her master at that moment.
He was trying to catch up his thoughts to say a word, but the warm shine of her eyes was more than he could express.
"Do you like dancing with me? I'm not so good moving with the rhythm," Arti said finally.
"Of course, but don't be modest, you dance very well, maybe I'm dancing badly," Sati laughed.
For a moment Sati stopped, apologized, interrupted the dance, took off her high-heeled shoes and started dancing barefoot. She had forgotten herself, the surrounding crowd.
Her black eyes, crazy look, warm face vibrations were heartbreaking. Arti could dance endlessly, to the point of fainting, only with her, only with her. But do others want to dance with her, or does Sati want to change him with another one? But he does not care, he only wanted to dance with her, and he didn’t want to see others. His mind was obscured.
The music stopped. They had to relax for a while, play funny games, and then dance again, become full of feminine aroma, life and passion.
The music break didn't last long. It sounded softer and slower and announced the beginning of a very popular "the mail" game at that time. Arti likes this game because it was a good opportunity to tell Sati everything in written way, which is much easier, then to express the same fillings verbally. Now the opportunity has arisen, and he will tell her everything and clarify many details for himself.
Soon, Arti received his postal number - 35, and Sati get hers - 43. He does not care about the numbers of the rest, only hers, only her he will write.
And here's his first "letter" that was the first chapter of his romance, the first words of his disappointment written to Sati. Perhaps this was the main reason why they adopted this style, further clarifying their relationship through letters. Although Sati didn’t like writing much, but she was always responding briefly, and later giving long clarifications and was demanding the same from.
Arti's first letter started like this:
“Number 43: Look for me, I guess you won't find me, and if you do, then you love me. "
He wrote the letter in a distorted handwriting, so that Sati would not guess who the writer was.
The "Postman" was happy to distribute the "letters" with a message to every waiter.
The first letter to him, with a strange content, also alerted.
“To number 35: Bring your trousers tomorrow, and I will iron it. "
This was a strange wish, a suggestion written with grammar mistakes, and Arti didn’t immediately realized who it might be, what the word-game it was, and who was playing this game. But assuming that Sati could be the author, he tried to respond in the same humorous manner.
“No. 43, You lie, you don't know how to iron well, and you know how to hide your feelings, maybe I'm wrong, but it is like this. And you can't iron my trousers, because you don't have the right to do it yet. But if you really can do it with a good quality, then that's interesting, and I'll take that into account in my future research." He especially corrected the word "pressing" by "ironing", emphasizing the grammatical error.
In response to the letter, Arti waited with a heartbeat, which reached an intense speed.
“No. 35, You're already exaggerating, I'll iron your pants so, that you wouldn't take them off for a long time, you can sleep and get up, even go for dancing ball without ironing."
The word "iron" was spelled correctly, and it was already clear with whom he had corresponded. Arti understood that their mail dialogue was becoming humorous, and he was not comfortable with it. The content of the next letter was more serious.
“No. 43, in my life I haven't had any close friends, peculiarly girlfriends, and I still don't believe I can have them. Maybe I'm wrong? It always seems to me, that I will never find the one I am looking for in my life. All this things are useless and hopeless. All around me are lies, fraud and deceit. My terrible fate, my sufferings, my sad soul approve that fact. I don't believe, I'll find my best friend or girlfriend."
Maybe Sati understood the direction of Arti's mind, and this time she didn't answer to his letter with puzzles, but consciously or instinctively she wrote it in open text?
“Arti, my dear. I love you so much, but darling, why do you want to leave us? For the sake of me you have to stay in this company with me. Always in love with you X."
Arti read the letter several times; his heart swelled with joy. After all, Sati had no longer written his mailing address, but had simply written, "Arti, my dear," and had also added that she loved him, and it was not clear just what a love it was. Whether it's friendship or true love, it doesn't matter, though, the important thing is, that she wrote, "I love you so much." What else did he need? The heart was shouting: Make the music louder, we need to dance crazy, have a fun and play.
But we still had to finish the next game. There was an option of kissing in that game, with the colleague boys in the team they have agreed earlier to kiss only the girl of their choice.
The empty glass bottle rotated on the floor in front of him, he jumped out of his seat, approaching Sati and kissed her neck, even though her cheeks and burning lips were so closer. He kissed just as tenderly, as a friend, as a brother, then quickly returned to his place. Maybe he was yellow, maybe red, but at the same time, he felt as the happiest man in the world at that moment.
Active games ended, correspondence continued again. The next letter started like this:
“No. 43. Forgive me for kissing, but there was no other way out. I apologize because I probably didn't have that right. Again this annoying "right": You have given your heart to another person? "
The answer was not too late.
“No. 35. No, you are wrong again and there is no need to apologize, you are allowed to do it, because I love you as my best friend. And there is no need to apologize. But what "rights" are we talking about, what rights do we need to kiss? If so, what? If I'm joking, laughing, and you know, what a fire is burning inside of me, huh ..."
Arti no longer wrote an answer-letter. Everything seemed to be said and clarified. Fever had overwhelmed his brain, he had lost himself from happiness and didn't know what to write anymore and how to write. He was in these thoughts when he received another letter.
“No. 43., Dear, but you didn't answer to my question in one of my previous letters."
But what answers, when he was in the seventh heaven of happiness and no longer thought about moving to another job?
The music was tweeting, the fat young man was switching discs one after the other, shouting wildly, the solo instruments were shouting.
The late night party participants said goodbye to each other. Arti couldn't accompany Sati. Their paths were different that day, and they said good-bye to each other in silent and gentle way.
After that evening their closeness was painted in other colors.
Silence ruled over the city, only a long tram jostled in the distance. A new burden lay on Arti's heart, a tremendous sadness came to him, overwhelming his heart. A new life full of trials and troubles began for him.
It has gone quite a lot time since then, and he was now sitting in his hotel room and writing about it, trying to remember the details. The evening was one of the happiest moments of their lives, the night of their mutual revelation that laid the groundwork for their new relationship, and its continuation was also the pledge of their next meeting at the train station a few days ago.