I was a rather rude young man. When other people were talking, I ignored them. My mind would wander into space where I would daydream. My favorite daydreams were starring in the world’s greatest paso doble, skipping through a field of lilacs, and tap-dancing on Nazi skulls. So, it was always awkward when people stopped talking and I had to speak. I would have to blink my eyes heavily so they didn’t look so glassed over in boredom. It took me years of admiring my own reflection, but I finally found a way to lock the muscles of my face into a handsome, disaffected mask. Maybe it was rude, but at least I looked good. I got away with this for years, until I met Charles. He would mock me by entering my daydreams and dancing the paso doble beside me. He didn’t care for lilacs or Nazi skulls; Charles is a snob for ballroom dancing. So, it’s rather ironic that he will never dance again. He just judges other dancers from afar.