I once was a dancer and when I moved it felt like flying and falling, beautifully like art. With him, I stood on his feet and we danced around the room, waiting for the late hour to come. And when he let go I remembered those years on that stage when I flew through the air. I must have forgotten how to spin without his hands to turn me, how to land without his arms to catch me. So when I found my old shoes and uniform in the attic, I remembered how beautiful I was before I even had him.