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I have an idea for a story. I've had it bubbling in my brain for years now, almost as long as the 3D work I ultimately decided I wanted to have accompany it. I don't know how I want to tell it yet. This is a writing-critique request for one of the ways I am experimenting with telling it: through series of short descriptions accompanied by a visual work. A sort of vignette, I guess. I don't really know how much these 'vignettes' should convey. I want to keep them concise and tightly coupled to the topic being depicted. I don't really want them to be simple info dumps, but I don't know if they can really stand on their own as little short stories either. I completed the first of these little vignettes back on Valentine's Day. I would be most appreciative of any feedback on the writing portion of it. A lot is left open or unsaid in it, and I expected that, but I don't know if I've said enough to make at least something meaningful out of it. The Description: (Since the visual/audio component is meant to help set the mood for this vignette, I'll leave it up to the critique-giver to decide whether they want to view it along with the text.) "Rederick and Blythe, together at last. There's a curious beauty in that the careers which so often kept them apart should for once bring them together. He the Science Team Lead and she the Program Manager. Desynced in time by their respective duties, they barely were ever able to sleep at the same moment let alone spend any time together. With me, we comprised the tripartite council which governed the development of the Bezgalīga Tāle project. The weekly 3-hour council meeting was often the only time they had with one another. Time spent deliberating and debating; pushed apart by practical reality. And yet, still pulled together through their love. With successful ignition came the political festivities. The massive space station housing the project grew with a flurry of activity and guests. It's grand, spacious plazas bustled with dignitaries from across the solar system of the Prīma Lapsa. Celebrations accompanied by a supernova surge in responsibilities for the two, pulled them even further apart. They prepared, then executed, and finally attended events, capped off by the grand inaugural ball. There they stood in their white tuxedo and white gown as dictated by the standards of their posts. As that same standard demanded, they shared the first dance of the ball. For the first time in a month, they were face to face without a video screen between them. I remember every minute motion they made. They moved as though they were one inseparable entity; as if they always had been. How lost they were in each other, leaving behind everything else. Their schedules at last in sync, they shared their first evening in over a year after that ball. They don't remember the ball, the evening, nor the terrible events that followed. They don't want to. But I remember for them. I remember everything they have forgotten about themselves. It was beyond all pleasures, then, that this simple moment of happiness between them was replicated unwittingly in the humble setting of the Apophysis living quarters. Alone with nothing to come between them, no memory of what they had and sharing not even a true continuity with their existence in those events, they danced. They danced a waltz of synchronicity with their blissful moment in a foreign universe."