Fringe

Alice’s heart stopped when the clock chimed.

“Eleven... it isn’t time.”

She crossed the ballroom, her dress grazing the glass floor. Laughter cut through the shimmering lights. She lifted a drink to her lips when a shadow darkened her.

“May I have this dance?”

She couldn’t see his face. Tall. Broad. Strong.

“Yes.”

He guided her to the center of the room. His fingers entwined hers with gentle certainty, his other hand warm upon her back. Their feet stepped in time. Energy wisped between them. The world blurred.

Their eyes met on the fringe.

She tried to speak, but he swept her outward and drew her close, her cheek pressed against his chest.

The dance intensified. Everyone disappeared. Just the two of them.

The first midnight chimes struck. She ignored it.
The music ended.
His dark eyes traced her on the third.
Their breath mingled.
Five… six... his lips brushed her cheek.

Reality exploded. She pulled away. Frozen, facing each other. She ran

Alice burst through the doors into the frost-tipped night, breath spilling in waves of white air.

The twelfth chime rang.

Warmth crushed her. Home wobbled into focus. Her breath heaving—mind wandering.
“Alice, where have you been?”