A neotropical vignette

As she leaned forward to refill her mug of cabernet, her chair rocked down to crush an ant and frighten a lizard. She leaned back and took a cool sip of the wine, tepid in the tropical heat. Silent, he glanced at her, and then away.

With the crack of thunder and the advent of a silent rain, he stood up and offered his hand.

She took his hand in hers and he pulled her onto the grass, his hips making small circles as he began to lead her in a dance dictated by the rhythm of a salsa only he could hear. Her waist firm and her movements graceful, she followed better than she ever had to music.

When the song was finished (and they were both rain-soaked, moist and delighted) he led her back to the covered patio, where they sank into their chairs again, slowly rocking to the rhythm of another silent song.

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