To Rebecca’s astonishment, Desmond was Josette’s student.
He’d arrived for a volunteer performance at the local elementary school and bumped into Josette post- arrival, chatting as they walked home.
He’d witnessed her attempted dance. The boy who’d once wept in frustration under a tree now lifted her effortlessly and echoed her own encouragement back at her.
With another show that afternoon, he stayed briefly for water before departing, promising to return for
dinner.
Rebecca’s rekindled dance passion kept her restless in the sunroom all afternoon. She tackled basic routines, but fatigue set in quickly, forcing her to rest on the floor repeatedly.
This cycle consumed the hours until Desmond returned, finding her breathless and sweaty after another
session.
He entered briskly, greeting her and sitting cross–legged opposite her.
“Performance a hit? You look thrilled,” she noted, his eyes outshining the sunset.
He grinned. “Yes, but that’s not the reason.”
Sensing his direction, she quietly waited for him to continue.
“I felt life stirring anew.” His eyes sparkled.
She blinked, confused by his words. He spread his arms and danced lightly. “The sound of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.”
He meant her return to dance. But did her flailing qualify? Even a moth would have moved with more
grace.
“Don’t be hard on yourself,” he encouraged. “Five years without practice, you were amazing today. It was beautiful. Don’t believe me? I’ll send you the video.”
He pulled out his phone and shared it in their chat. It turned out to be a recording of their duet.
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