Ava didn't plan to go to the dance show.
She had been in the market all day, weaving through stalls, gathering herbs and crushed indigo for
her dye pots. But as she passed the open square near the cultural center, she felt it—that tug again.
The one that didn't start in the mind, but somewhere behind her ribs.
A crowd had gathered. Drums echoed against the city's metal bones. There was firelight,
movement, sweat.
She stopped.In the center of the square, a man was dancing like the wind had split open inside him.
Arms slicing. Feet crashing. His body spun between rhythms, but his face remained still, like he
wasn't performing—for anyone. Like the gods were his only audience.
Ava's heart caught in her throat. She stepped closer, pulled by something wordless.
Him.
He didn't see her.
Not at first.
But she saw the storm in him. She felt it in the soles of her feet—the same way she felt the river's
pull when she stood too close.
He ended the piece with a final stomp, then collapsed to one knee. The drums silenced. Applause
broke the stillness.
Ava stayed back. Watched.
When the crowd began to thin, she turned to leave.
"Hey."
The voice stopped her.
She turned—and there he was. Closer than she expected.
"Hi," he said, breath still heavy. "Did I… I don't know. Did I scare you?"
She blinked. "Why would you scare me?"
"People usually look at me like I've lost something," he said. "Or like I'm carrying something they
don't want to catch."
Ama smiled softly. "Maybe you're just carrying something they forgot they used to have."Tayo paused. That answer wasn't normal. It sounded like… an echo.
"I'm Tayo," he offered.
"Ava."
"Nice to meet you, Ava." He tilted his head. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"I'm from many places," she replied. "But today I belong to this moment."
They stood there, the city buzzing around them, both unsure what came next—but both certain it
wasn't goodbye.
They walked.
Neither of them said, "Let's walk." They just started moving, side by side, through the quiet back
streets where the city softened and the trees could breathe.
"You danced like you were chasing something," Ava said.
"I wasn't chasing," Tayo replied. "I was… releasing."
"What did you release?"
He hesitated. "Old skin. Memories. Maybe a version of myself I didn't need anymore."
Ava nodded slowly. "I know that kind of release. Mine usually happens in water."
"You a swimmer?"
"Not exactly. More like… I listen when rivers speak."
Tayo smiled. "You're not like most people I meet."
"I get that a lot. You're not like most dancers I see either. Yours isn't about technique. It's a
language."
He looked at her. There was something in her presence—like she wasn't fully walking beside him.Like one part of her was elsewhere, submerged in something deeper.
"You ever feel like your body remembers something your mind forgot?" he asked.
Ava turned to him, eyes soft. "All the time. I think that's where the Orisha live—in the body, not the
brain."
That made him stop walking.
"You believe in them?" he asked, quietly.
"They've never given me much choice," she said with a small laugh. "They show up when I least
expect them. In dreams. In strangers. In wind."
Tayo shivered at the word. Wind.
"Oya," he murmured.
Ava looked at him, surprised. "She's moving through you?"
"You know her?"
"Not exactly. But I've felt her storms. They always shake loose what's meant to grow."
A pause.
Tayo exhaled. "You sound like someone I'm supposed to meet."
Ava smiled. "Or maybe someone you've already met before."
In the quiet, something passed between them. Not flirtation. Not friendship. Something older.
Recognition.
A gust of wind stirred the leaves above them—just one breath, perfectly timed.
They both looked up. Then at each other.
Neither said a word.The gods were watching.
And smiling.