Can't Run From the Magic

Breathing heavy and nearly bursting with unmanly giggles Tomlin rounded a corner and propped himself against one of the ornate marble pillars. The sounds of the ball echoed inescapably around the great hall. Footfalls told of a myriad comings and goings. But he felt isolated, safe, alone, except for the vision in his mind’s eye of the woman’s expression as he said those simple words and left abruptly.
Was she shocked? Offended? Curious? Excited? He cursed his own vanity for thinking that. He went to remove his mask, but a flash of crimson in the corner of his eye alerted him. He had been followed.
Amusement turned to panic. His plan, though bold and enigmatic, was unfortunately ill-conceived and myopic. Mask firmly in place he fled from where he stood. His shoes were painfully loud on the hard floor. His pants were tragically inappropriate for running. His mask was not designed for visibility.
At last he found an exit, a side door, and dashed outside into the bracing night air.

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