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His eyes had sparkled so, brilliant blue like the frills of her costume. How they had danced, his gold mingling with her silver, and the taste of his mouth had been like stars in champagne, bright and burning. Laughter in her ears, hands at her hips, the night an enchantment of rhythm. Hand-held stomping had given way to furtive coupling, and all of it limned with sparkling light.

Now all that was left was the memory, and the blue and silver frills that decorated her wall, empty silver eyes holding captive forever the secret pleasures of Mardi Gras.

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