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She grabs my hand and pulls me upon the dewy grass. We had just finished taking the last bites of our picnic of champagne and hard cheese. The bubbles of our laughter floated above our heads, and insects waltzed between the crumbs left on our old blanket. The warm grass greets our feet, and blades sprout up between our unpolished toes.
She grabs my hand to take me upon the dewy grass. We had just begun our picnic of champagne and cheese. The air seems light with bubbles and the the insects waltz above us in mirth as we consider our next moves. Our feet sink into the cool grass, the blades sprouting up between our toes.
Forward, side, back, side, perfect square in circle skirts. Watch his feet, let him lead, bodies so close. No complicated twirls, just a hug in rhythm.
The waltz started at midnight, and continued through the dawn and the day after. She was amazed that instead of tiring, the dancers became more and more energetic, and as they waltzed, their features started to change. One couple developed the faces of cats, another couple of warthogs.