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Angelica

I stared into those eyes, memerized like a mouse by a cobra. Something whispered in the back of my mind to take caution, but I could not logically associate it with the strange but evidently benign gathering.

"Hello," she said, her eyes sweeping me up and down, delineating the plainness of my clothing, saying as politely as possible, you were not invited.

"What's going on?" I stammered. "I thought this building was abandoned."

"Why, so did we," she returned. "We thought we would have a gathering without disturbing anyone." I could not tell if she meant for me to go, or if she meant to apologize.

"I'm Angelica," she said, turning and, over her shoulder, "You are welcome to join."

I was soon so lost in the whirling costumes, haunting music and tantalizing sweets I forgot that I was an intruder. Others watched me while they danced, and I stared at them; they were all smiling, but not overtly.

Soon I was invited to dance. I drew into the whirlwind and was passed from partner to partner, as though I was a novelty in the group, something desirable. I sensed the interest of everything. Soon I grew breathless, and there was that haunting suspicion that something was wrong.
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