"I know that's you, Tzipporah," Moses muttered when he felt a strange tickling sensation on his neck. He opened his eyes to see a disappointed Tzipporah looking down at him holding a fluffy feather duster.

"Dammit," she grumbled.

"And I'm not ticklish anyway, you know," he added.

Tzipporah huffed and slumped down next to him. "You suck."

"You're just jealous that I get to laze around," Moses responded, making himself comfortable on the couch. "You know, being physically disabled and all."

"You might as well be mentally disabled," Tzipporah muttered, smiling. She added, louder, "that walking stick makes you look like an old man."

"It's a staff, not a walking stick."

"What's the difference?"

"A staff just…sounds cooler."

"Nothing can make you cool because you're such a loser," she teased. Moses looked very unimpressed. "And by the way, Dad wanted me to tell you that tonight we're having another celebration with…with dancing."

"Dancing?" Moses repeated, wincing. "What are you guys celebrating now? Your second cousin's beard?"

"If you must know, we're celebrating my cousin's wife's nephew's tenth birthday," Tzipporah answered.

He rubbed his face with his hand. "Your extended family is so huge it puts Donald Trump's ego to shame. And you guys also celebrate everything and everyone. I bet if your cousin's wife's grandma's nephew's daughter's boyfriend's dog learnt how to sit and roll over your family would hold a three-day banquet."

"Good idea," she mused. "I wouldn't mind a three-day banquet."

"And your family dances so much. I feel so useless sitting there clapping like a moron for who knows how long."

"You're not useless," Tzipporah replied. "A moron, perhaps, but not useless. You can be used as a pillow, for example." And with that, she flopped onto his stomach and lay there.

"I'm going to vomit all over your unnaturally bushy hair," Moses groaned, seeing as Tzipporah was a little (that is, a lot) too heavy for his stomach.

"It's not unnatural or bushy. It's art."

"Abstract art, maybe…"

"Don't worry about clapping like moron. Your clapping helps the entire world spin and everything lapse into harmony. Without your clapping, everything would fall apart like someone smashing up a lego house."

"Your sarcasm and simile is terrible," Moses said.

"So is your face," Tzippprah answered. She sat up, and then got to her feet, much to Moses's relief. "I need to go practise for the dance concert next Saturday. I'll be in the studio."

"I'll come with you. I'd like to criticize your lack of dancing skills," Moses teased, shuffling to his feet (with the help of his 'walking stick').

"You're just jealous I can actually move my feet," Tzipporah laughed. Moses flinched and she realised she had hit a sore spot. "Sorry," she apologised, softening.

They half-strided (Tzipporah), half-limped (Moses) to the wood-panelled dance studio. The room was lined with floor-length mirrors and dangling ceiling lights, and the wooden floor made their shoes echo.

Moses sat down and watched as Tzipporah started to dance. He felt slightly jealous that she could do things like that, twist and turn and pirouette and all those fancy ballet turns. She seemed graceful, floating and whipping about like a swan feather. Moses didn't know what it was like to feel like that, to feel free and daring and put emotions into movement and dance.

He watched her spin and leap in her pointe shoes, and smiled. It was good to see her be so passionate about something. However, he was surprised when she suddenly fell in the middle of a grand jête.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Tzipporah laughed it off. "Uh-huh. Just distracted, that's all."

She didn't tell Moses that she was distracted by him. She liked feeling his gaze on her. Although, he did seem rather upset. As she started the routine again, Tzipporah thought about how he could dance if he tried. But he was too scared to. To be honest, his emotions sucked. A lot. She felt so much feeling and passion and love in her dance that it really shocked her when she realised that he had never felt like that.

"That was amazing," Moses grinned, applauding politely. "It's so weird seeing people's feet move so quickly and perfectly."

Tzipporah nodded, breathing deeply. Her face was flushing after her energetic dance. She stared at him almost unnervingly.

"Tzipporah? Are you—"

Without any warning, the dancer grabbed his by the hands and pulled him his feet, spinning him around quickly in circles as she laughed.

"What are you doing? Where's my staff?" he asked, getting dizzy as they spun around and around and around the room. He tried to look back at his reliable staff, but Tzipporah didn't let hom.

"Don't you dare look back!" she cried so fiercely that he immediately obliged. "Just keep your eyes on me. We're gonna dance!"

And they did.

It wasn't a kind of dance that had a specific style. They just…did.

"You're holding back, aren't you?" Moses asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up and dance with me!"

And after he pointed it out, Tzipporah did not hold back. She did complicated steps and twirls. Moses…surprisingly caught up, and he didn't look physically disabled at all in that moment. He looked like he had danced before.

Unfortunately, she somehow spun the two of them into a wall. Moses landed on his back with a barely muffled spew of curse words. Tzipporah, rather embarrassingly, landed on top of him.

They lay there trying to catch their breaths.

"I…I thought you said you couldn't dance," Tzipporah said, confused.

"After watching people and clapping along like a moron for a year, you pick stuff up," Moses responded. "Although I didn't know I could dance either."

Then Tzipporah finally noticed that they were in a very, very awkward position, and stumbled off him.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she pulled him to his feet.

"We're going again," Tzipporah answered.

And that, readers, is exactly what they did.