Melody without Harmony

       Janet usual hangout with her friends in an arcade in Chinatown with old-school decoration. Out of all the games it offered, they loved the dancing game and were always competing against each other from dawn till dust if it was Sunday.

       The arcade was filled with loud game music, vibrant game graphics and a scent of marshmallow, though people visited less often nowadays. Janet would occasionally saw an old men came in for a round of Mahjong and nothing else. Other arcade games would be left alone gathering dust if not for the owner - Jackie Chan who swept and cleaned them every day in every bit of detail.

       He was nice to Janet and her friends and often gave them a few more tokens to play.

       The songs from the dancing game were in Japanese but they had long mastered the lyrics before they knew how to walk. Singing in sync was not a problem, the problem was dancing in sync with style.
       Janet was the best among her friends, mostly because of her unique moves and dancing fluidity. She spent many of her waking hours thinking about the game, even dreamed about it and move along with the rhythm which caused many minor injuries during sleep. She was obsessed with the game.

       She stood on the pad burned in black and tapped her feet in the four direction, everything felt so familiar.

       Every time she danced, she felt a bit of her were absorbed into the game, into the music, into the void of the display. The music moved her body and her feet rhymed with the rhythm, creating a space of perfect harmony.
       
       The tempo fast, the lyrics cast, the music blast.

       It was a busy Sunday morning, Janet went to the arcade with her friends as usual but only to find it on fire. The blazing flame wrapped the whole structure and quickly depleted it to a crumbling end. Everything inside including the owner himself were burned. The fire department arrived late because of the complexity in gaining road access to Chinatown and could not provide much help in rescue.
       The girls wept and moaned for the death of the owner and the destruction of the arcade. The same night when everyone cleared out of the street, they sneaked into the place where once stood the arcade. Most of the metal frame of the arcades machines were melted to a curvy pile of scrap, even the dancing pad they had spent so much time tapping on were left only with an outline. She stood on the pad burned in black and tapped her feet in the four direction, everything felt so familiar.
       She remembered the smiling faces, the music it played, and the color it projected. Even when she had the worst time in school and at home, she would always found comfort and happiness at the sound of the dancing game, the laughter and cheers from her friends, the competitions that went on and on for hours and hours. 
       
       She never felt tired of the game, nor would she ever be.


[Dance Dance Revolution baby!]