In Time

And that felt, sitting there, like the real failure — not that we’d stopped dancing, but that we’d forgotten we were ever people who danced.

I did not want to be a woman who had forgotten.

I looked at the boy in the photograph, mid-spin, laughing, so sure of us, and I decided I owed him at least the attempt.

He had promised me every slow one for the rest of my life.

The rest of my life was still going.

There was still time to make good.

Chapter 6 — Bev