Truly, Truly, We'll Haunt Each Other

Step after step she thinks about how, a long time ago, and again, he told her he hated to dance. But once, she had seen him at a wedding. His stilted, embarrassed shuffles were endured because, of all things, he loved her; of all things, it was asked of him. Later, she kissed the untouched bend of his neck, and cupped a tiny, white hand over his chest, hoping for some closer comfort in the beat of him.