The Language of DanceGerald had been a bit anxious about going abroad on holiday to a country so far away. But he’d always wanted to see the place and he was determined to make the most of it. He’d practised the language for months until his legs ached and now, if perhaps not exactly fluent, he did have quite a vocabulary.The Language of Dance1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He’d been so nervous coming out of the hotel for the first time and seeing a couple coming towards him. But he’d done a little pirouette and they’d pirouetted back, and it was all fine. They’d maybe been smiling a little at his accent but they had understood what he meant and Gerald was thrilled.
Filled with confidence, he’d soon got the hang of going into shops and tap dancing with the assistants. In one establishment he’d got into a lovely conversation with one of his fellow shoppers—an elderly lady. They’d waltzed for nearly half an hour.
And now he was on his way back to the hotel after a delightful evening out. The opera ha