“Why you freak!” she cried. “You loser galore! How can I marry someone who can’t take off his shoes? What will our honeymoon be like? What will my parents say? I’ve wasted two years of my life with a man who can’t take off his shoes!”
George quickly protested. He told her something can be done, perhaps hypnosis, maybe surgery, he wasn’t sure. But Wendy was so distraught that she opened the door and told him to leave. As George walked out, she threw the furniture catalog at his back before slamming the door.
George walked down the street and brooded over the day’s events. He was certain his life was cursed and that he would never be the same again.
After walking for a couple of blocks and cursing his fate, he felt a strange impulse to want to dance. He had never danced a step in his life, never had any interest, but the impulse grew stronger and he began to dance down the street. At first it was a slow dance, but quickly his steps became lighter, more fluid and he danced a little faster. He realized it wasn’t him who doing the dancing, but rather his shoes. They carried him as if they had a mind of their own.
His dance soon included spins and high leg kicks that only masters of dance could do. And George knew that he couldn’t stop dancing even if he tried. As the dance carried him higher in the air and spun him faster around, his feet no longer felt any pain and he felt a joy that he had never experienced before.
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