The drums beat rhythmically as the Minnesota Renaissance Festival neared its ritual, end of the day dance. Hundreds of bodies moved to the beat, stirring up a cloud of dust that glistened in the rays of the setting sun. And then I saw her. Her flaming red hair was electric. Her name was Hannah. We danced, pressing ourselves against one another for half an hour until we gave each other a passionate good-bye kiss. I don't know if she knew it, but it was my first kiss. I haven't seen her since.
