A Midnight Dance

When Jaressa worked late in the lab, she danced with her assistant.

They both loved polka–the only two people in the world who did, it seemed–and so, when the rest of the whitecoats went home for the night, Jaressa would put on her best Spotify polka playlist, and wiggle her hips to the beat.

Across the lab, the dark eyes of her assistant caught hers. She looked away and smiled. Her assistant–Leo–smiled, too, bigger and toothier. It always happened this way. Jaressa pretended to concentrate on her work, shuffling papers and tapping the end of her pen to her lip. Her eyes rose, found Leo’s, fell again. Smile.

“Why don’t you just ask?” Jaressa said.

Leo only smiled.

“I know you want to,” said Jaressa. “You’re awfully coy, Mr. McCoy.”

A big ol’ grin.

Jaressa rolled her eyes, laughing a little. She stepped out from behind her desk, snapping her fingers, closing her eyes, and bouncing in a little dance-walk over to where Leo was standing. Leo stood still, watching her, grinning, but doing nothing else. She neared him, did an incongruous little Cat Daddy, down and up, snapping some more with the polka rhythm.

“Come on, Doctor,” she said, taking his hands and lift-pulling him to her so he fell into her arms. And together they swayed and twirled, and Jaressa laughed and Leo smiled big and white.

“Hey Ress, did you see my phone anywhere?” called Jaressa’s colleague, Patty, coming through the double-doors that led to the lab, but the dancers couldn’t hear her over the polka.

Patty turned around a corner, fingering her mousey hair out of her eyes to the back of her ear, and saw Jaressa polka-dancing with the anatomical skeleton model they kept in the lab. She stopped cold. Jaressa saw her and stopped too, the skeleton clacking limply in her arms. The two doctors stared at each other in silence. Leo grinned.




Day 218’s three random writing prompt categories were, “An assistant,” “Poor taste in music,” and, “A spooky skeleton.”

Naturally the skeleton would be named Leonard McCoy.

– H.

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