Total dance

The wheelchair bounced and shimmied, and her hair shook free of its ponytail. Her hands fluttered at the ends of her arms like white birds straining at the end of ropes, about to break away and fly off. The bearded brown man bent his knees, making himself even shorter, though he was already barely taller than she, though she was seated. His features were asymmetrical, his beard wild and uneven. He did not smile, but his eyes held hers, animated with intensity. She whooped and, encouraged, he shook his hips. They leaned together, sweating, immersed. The room was a sauna of dancers trying to look good, trying to pass time, trying to blend in, trying for cool. Only she and he did not try, only danced, total joy danced.

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