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Describe a stranger.
Maybe it's the delivery person, the fruit shop worker or the old lady driving the car next to you at the traffic light ( don't Prose and drive). Poetry or short story.
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MeeJong

The Dancing Stranger

I was at a nightclub in DC. One of many, many nights of clubbing. I was a sophomore in college. I don’t remember ever dancing before college. But those nights...I never wanted them to end. The stranger was tall and black. The music was loud and fast and full of bass. I could feel him behind me. He moved playfully, a little bit teasing, a little bit challenging. I turned around with a smile on my lips, but I was looking at the ground, at his feet. I watched in wonder as his movements synced with mine, gracefully, perfectly. Astonished, I looked up at him, he was smiling down at me. We danced with abandon, testing each other’s skill, continually impressed. I didn’t think I would notice if the entire club suddenly emptied because I was so entranced. But I did notice, out of the corner of my eye, my friends were carrying my roommate down the stairs and out the door. I put my hand on the stranger’s wrist. I breathed “Thank you so much.” and rushed out the door. I will never forget what it felt like to dance with that stranger.

I am 21 years or older.