float_on tender square as michael and i watched the shortbread brown through the oven window, modest mouse’s jaunty guitar strut entered the room. excitedly, i grabbed michael’s hands and tried to get him to dance with me. he stood in place and let me move his arms and twist his torso along with the beat. his brown eyes twinkled in that way i haven’t seen for a long while. michael’s not a dancer; the only time i’ve managed to wrangle him to boogie with me was for our wedding song and even then, he was so nervous. i moved our arms above our heads to complete a bow tie, my arm grazing along his shoulders and his mine. i slid away from michael as he remained in the middle of the kitchen, then i used the one set of our clasped hands to turn into him, his arm becoming a scarf i wrapped around my neck as i wiggled from side to side. “and we’ll all float on, okay” repeated through the speakers. untangling myself, i turned to face him again. he was smiling in an abashed way. “i’m flustered,” he said. “is it a good flustered or a bad flustered?” i asked, grinning. “just flustered.” i kept his hands clasped with mine and continued to side step and sing. “it’s just us,” i said. “dancing is a lot of work,” he clarified after a minute. “it’s like how sports are for you; you don’t like to run.” it’s true, i do hate to run. i brought our hands down and stepped forward to give him a kiss. “don’t worry, even if things get heavy, we’ll all float on,” issac brock sang surely. and in that moment, i truly believed it. 211007 what's it to you? who go blather from