I danced my way through the streets of Manhattan. Somewhere in my head Frank Sinatra was singing "Lover" with the most upbeat rhythm, making me want to sway and slide like a professional ballroom dancer. I didn't even know I had it in me. I hippidy-hopped through my way, not really sure where I was going. My happiness was contagious, though. People looked and laughed at and with me like I was high on something. I really was high; I was on cloud nine.
I wasn't sure what had come over me. The spell I was under made me oblivious to my surroundings. The only scene between my eyelids was that of Genevieve and her gorgeous smile, and the only sound I could hear was that of her melodious voice. I could almost picture the both of us dancing our way through New York, performing our very own Broadway Musical. Nothing else mattered at that moment than the image of her and the opportunity that magically crossed my path in a destiny defining moment.
Everything else was obsolete.
