She laughed, took my hand, and led me to the dance floor.

“Really”, I stammered, and started to sweat, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, just follow my lead.” She was so beautiful. “See? You’re getting it… you’re doing great!”

My feet were cinder blocks, my arms were flapping as if I was trying to take flight. Suddenly self-aware, I stopped moving. I slowly reached into my jacket pocket, felt the weight of the revolver in my hand, and pointed it at her skull.

“Really. I can’t dance.”

I pulled the trigger.