”No way,” Alec said. “I have no sense of rhythm and I’ve got two left feet. I abhor dancing and I’m not going to sign up for lessons. Period. Full stop. End of story.”
“Oh come on,” Eleanor said. “I’ve seen you dance back in the day. You weren’t bad.”
“Are you kidding?” Alec protested. “Even the best of dance instructors threw in the towel when they tried to teach me.”
“I’m sure you can dance if you really try,” Eleanor said. “You were very athletic in high school, weren’t you?”
“That was 30 years and 50 pounds ago,” Alec said.
Eleanor gave Alec a stern look. “We need to add some zing to our marriage, Alec, and dancing together would be a perfect way to add that zing we need. Besides, you know what they say, right? Happy wife, happy life.”
Alec sighed. “Fine, you win Eleanor. We’ll sign up for dancing lessons.”
*****Three weeks later at the local emergency room*****
The orthopedic surgeon said, “Eleanor, your foot is broken in two place and we’ll have to put it in a cast for six weeks.”
Eleanor glared at Alec, and if looks could kill, Alec would be six feet under. “I’m sorry that I stepped on your foot and broke it,” Alec said. “But I told you that taking dancing lessons was a bad idea.”
Written for Paula Light’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, where the theme is “rhythm” (or lack thereof in this case).