In this seemingly endless ball, only one person was not dancing.
He appeared to be in his forties, dressed like a pianist, and was sitting in a corner of the ballroom. His hands flew through the air as if a real piano were in front of him.
Although not a single note sounded, the pianist's face was filled with intoxicated self-forgetfulness. He held his head high, eyes shut tight, and shook his head back and forth as if passionately performing some masterpiece.
This performance continued until six in the morning, when the socialites on the dance floor finally seemed to have had their fill. They collapsed limply onto the floor, completely still.
The pianist then rose from his invisible piano, bowing and waving to all sides as if thanking an audience for their adoration and applause.
Yet, aside from the melody that had been looping on the gramophone all night, there was no other sound in the room...
