Ballroom (#17 of 365)

One hand pressed into my low back, the other clasped with mine. I rub his shoulder and smile at my reflection in the crystal of his eyes.
He steps forward and I follow with a back step. His rhythm is easy and we glide along the shiny oak. My crimson dress swishes as we round the dance floor. He lifts my hand high and spins me in place.
On this floor he is the leader. His head held high and a glint in his eye, loving his place. I smile with a hint of laughter. Good for him. We both know this is the only place he is going to feel like this.

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