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 She had his hand in hers. His hand held onto her hip, hers on his. They twirled, faster, and faster with the mourning music, sweat rolling down their hot bodies. The music speeds, and still, they dance. She was dressed in a long gown, flared at the bottom so that when she twirled the fabric spun out to her thighs, almost too high, but not. Her sun-kissed hair was done up in a beautifully bun, hair loosely done as if she had just put it up to remove it from her eyes. Two pearl earrings matched the shimmering happiness in her eyes as she danced. He was dressed in a tux, soft and without wrinkles. This was the man she loved, and she had never