They laid their hands upon one another gently, one just below the shoulder, one clasping the other’s hand. They gazed into each other’s eyes, brown on blue on brown, then Nix took the first step forward. Dick took a step back, his eyes fixed upon his partner’s shadowy face. The rhythm came naturally, just like walking or breathing. They turned—one-two-three, one-two-three—following the slow, somber notes resonating from the record player. Dick slid deeper into Nix’s arms and followed his graceful movements.
“You were right,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
Nix smiled and held Dick like a secret. “It’s Beethoven.”
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