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Dancing

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One hand was resting gently on her shoulder, the other one was lying around her hip, while they slowly moved to the music, coming from the old cassette deck. Slightly blurred and hollowed. Erin couldn't care less. She was where she always had wanted to be, in Markus' arms. Even if, and she knew this well enough, it wasn't more than a fleetingly moment.

They would never be more than just friends. She had accepted this a long time ago already. She was Markus best friend, his confident, his right hand. But he would never tell her: I love you.