The first time I saw you dance we were seven years old. You giggled when you flicked off the lights and those little stars tangled in your hair glowed like fireflies. Some silly pop song was playing on the radio, something you wouldn’t be caught dead listening to even four years later. But you loved the music, and the music loved you. She took your pale hands in hers and swept you off your feet, twirling across the carpet. Our hands were clasped together, and we spun ourselves dizzy until gravity pushed us on to our backs. You looked up at the stars that had fallen out of your hair, and I looked up at you.

The second time I saw you dance was in the rain. It had been desperately cloudy outside all day, and when the sky couldn’t take it anymore the rain poured down in buckets. You giggled when you opened the door and felt the slap of wind in your face, the stinging droplets biting at your painted lips. The joy caught you off guard a bit and for a second you were invincible, running straight for the storm with all the love in the world caught in the rarity of your smile. Sunlight was your enemy, darkness your only friend, and you ran to her. You danced with darkness, handfuls of rain flying through the sky as you waltzed through droplets, calling out to me to come join you in the wet of night.

The third time I saw you dance, you were alone. You didn’t know I was there, didn’t know anyone was there. You had been fading for a while. The record player buzzed and shimmied, and you giggled as you tapped your feet. She held out a calm hand, you a shaking one, and she spun you softly through the curtains of sorrow until all I could see were your silhouettes, running sickeningly quick through the blue. When you emerged, she was gone. Instead of stars, cockroaches clung to your locks, and your button eyes stared straight through me without seeing a thing.

The fourth time I saw you dance was the day you died. I warned you to stop waltzing with ghosts, but the allure of her faded hand was far too tempting. You went to the graveyard with a bouquet of fresh roses clasped in your hands, and you giggled when they wilted at her touch. She brushed a stray hair off your forehead, leaving behind a streak of blood that dripped into your eyes until you could only see red. Blinded by her beauty, you followed with lightning steps, dancing to the rhythm of wilted roses flying through the air. She spun you around, tipped you back, and whispered the last secret in your ear. The look of terror on your face was too much to bare. I slammed the coffin shut, but your screams haunted me long after I walked away.

The last time I saw you dance was in a dream. You flew down from the sky on golden wings and giggled as bare feet touched green Earth. I held out my hands and you took them without pause, swaying with me in the silky air, our cheeks inches apart. I asked you about her, but your darting eyes refused to meet mine. We danced for seconds, minutes, hours. Your grip tightened ever so slightly, nails drawing blood on my skin. I pushed you away, fear snatching my heart away from your broken bones. A look of betrayal flashed over your perfect features as you fell, before returning to that manic smile when your head met stone with a sickening crack. You giggled, and I wept. I woke with cockroaches in my hair, a wilted rose in my hands, and her gaze falling down upon me like a soft rain. Faded hands stretched out, drawing blood on my forehead that dripped into my eyes. I stood up. The music crescendoed, and we danced.