She was a pretty woman in my arms, timid at first and later with her courage laid bare. I led her in our secret revolt against all things lawful and right as we crossed our hearts and vowed our propoganda would spurn none but those of Ko-ro-ba.
Halfway across the clearing and back, the patterns of a star-crossed dance lay imbedded in the flattened sod, for proof that we had been there. It was the next best thing sans the lost glass slipper.
And just like that, she slipped from my grasp and was gone.
