“Would you care to dance, Eleanor?” he asked.

I looked at his hand, then up at his face.

His eyes were steady, waiting.

I placed my hand in his and stood up.

“I would love to,” I said.

We walked out onto the polished maple floor.

The wood felt solid beneath my shoes.

Harold placed his right hand gently on my waist, and I placed my left hand on his shoulder.

We joined hands, our fingers interlocking.

We took our first step.

The movement was slow and natural, as if we had done it many times before.

I felt the tension in my shoulders finally dissolve.

We moved across the floor, turning slowly under the warm yellow lights.

Outside, the rain continued to fall against the tall windows, but inside, the room was warm and full of music.

As we danced, I looked past Harold’s shoulder at the reflection of the room in the dark glass.

I saw a woman in a green dress, moving forward into the light.