He could touch and see the beauty that was now in his arms more than he had done so far, as there was no gap that separated them at the moment. He could feel the breath that brushed his face when the movement made their proximity closer and closer.
He could hold her hand without gloves covering her hand, telling others that the lady in his arms was his wife and with whom his dance would only be.
There was no defense to maintain their distance, like before this night came, as if all that had been done in the past was only a dream. Or perhaps what was happening this night was the actual dream? But no. Canillas hoped none of that was a dream. He preferred to keep all that had happened as a beautiful memory instead of it being a mere dream that he had never experienced in real life.
