They stood in the corner. She wrote in her small notebook, he drew sketches. Both seemed out of place in the masquerade ball.
“Oh, you draw the lady with purple dress over there? Her hair is wavy. You draw her wrong,” she said to him.
He retort, “Would you please shut up and go back to your writing? What do you write anyway?” Then he took her notebook and read while mimicking her voice, “A newlywed man play single on the dance floor.”
Even when his face was covered with a mask, she could tell he was surprised. “What?” She asked.
“What was that supposed to mean? Play single? How did you even know that he’s newlywed?”
“I just know,” she replied. “Hey, would you like to dance? After that you can approach that lady in purple dress.”
“I can’t dance and I don’t want to approach that lady.”
“Put your paper and pencil in your pocket. I’ll teach you how to dance and talk to a lady,” she said while grabbing his right wrist.
“I talk to you all the time.”
“All right, correction then. I’ll teach you how to dance and talk to a lady other than me.”
P.S. I’ve never gone to a ball or masquerade so if this story sounds unlikely, please tell me.