For just a moment, her mind went BLANK. Did she even know anyone here? Sal looked around again – she might know that woman with the AMBER necklace on. Tentative steps toward a table — no, all the chairs seemed taken. She felt her nervousness rising. This had been a mistake. Should she leave? Then, it started — the band picked up their instruments. The first sounds of a SAMBA wrapped themselves around her, filled her, pulled her to the dance floor. Soon, the only thing that mattered was the music, erasing any distance between her and the others. Seamlessly, the band switched to a MAMBO, Sal’s body following right along. No hesitation. No fear. No longer an outsider, just the sublime feeling of belonging, participating in the tribal joy of dance.

Georg’ann

Over time Carlos became
a WORSE and worse dancer.
Off balance, with an uneven gait.
Occasionally he still took her
in a close embrace. A few steps
across the kitchen as if to VOUCH
for his former self, a man
who could, though he didn’t,
GLOAT about his MAMBO.

Heather