One step forward, one step back. Two steps forward, two steps back. It was a painfully tedious dance, for the passion, red and hot, had long cooled. The two empty shells circled the dancefloor, moving flawlessly, but they drew no applause. Their excecution was perfect, but like a candle without a flame, something was missing. Muscles bulged and bodies arced, but the two pairs of eyes? Lifeless. Their eyes met but no sparks emerged, their bodies met but no warmth evolved. Slowly but surely the audience left, for the dancers suffering was a mirror of theirs. Let them dance, one said, they can lie to themselves, but not us.