She was just been openly jilted by her boyfriend. After their dinner, he told her that he had fallen in love with someone else, a more beautiful lady than herself. They had been inside a restaurant and in front of everyone, she threw a glass of water at him and walked out of the restaurant.
That same night, she went to a beer parlour and ordered for a drink at the bar to quench the anger of being humiliated by her own boyfriend, now “ex-”. She idly watched a couple dancing a slow waltz to a pure instrumental jazz music playing from a juke-box. It was obvious, she clearly realised, that the night-meal and everything else she had with her boyfriend were their last. A tear quietly trailed down her cheek as she secretly admired the glorious dance of the couple. This made the split with her boyfriend all the more painful. She watched with awe as the couple kissed at intervals. When the jazz music gradually came to an ethereal end, the couple stopped dancing but never left the dance floor. They looked into each other’s eyes and simultaneously touched each other’s cheeks. Mesmerized, she watched.
Gradually, they touched each other’s clothed torsos. He opened her blouse. She opened his shirt. What the jilted lady saw shocked her. Bombs!! Real, red, thin bombs!! In a flash, she removed his shirt and he removed her blouse. The jilted lady raised an alarm by screaming, jumped out of her seat and made a run for the exit of the beer parlour. All heads turned towards the dance floor. By the time she reached the exit, the bombs on the couple’s bodies had exploded. People started running for their dear lives. The building exploded and came crashing down on them. Piercing screaming rang out. The lady knocked her head against the bonnet of a car and passed out.
When she regained consciousness, she found herself on a hospital bed and her mother by her bedside. As she squeezed her mother’s hand and the whole incident came back to her, she clearly realised that the dance of the couple in the beer parlour was their last.