May I Have This Dance?

You punched my shoulder, a gleam in your eye. We could do that, you know. I didn’t answer. C’mon, you laughed, don’t be a putz. You pulled down the shade and turned up the music. Before I could protest, you slipped off your shoes while Bob Sieger’s Night Moves filled the room. Twisting to the harmony in your stockings you dragged me out of my wheelchair and hoisted me to my feet. I wobbled, grabbing you around the waist to keep from falling. The room spun around me as I held you tight. I smiled. May I have this dance?