"No, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my birthday."

She interrupts the face. His face. He was thinking something like 'she probably doesn't want to have dinner with me because it's her birthday' or some such none sense, it was clear on his face what he was thinking. Though he would be in denial about it.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, now, more wine please?"

He pours it for her, because he wants to. She doesn't really want him to but it seems to make him happy. He feels confident to do this, it's probably one of those things that he does to prove to himself he can. To be a mature adult that knows how to pour wine.

They sit next to each other at his heavy table. It's hard to move to clean around but it was a gift from Norway a long time ago. There are carvings on it and she always finds something new in them when she looks. Outside the windows a light rain storm comes down. Iceland's garden needed it, she's happy for the plants but he doesn't know why she smiles.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Oh..no reason. I just...it's a lovely day..." He glances out the window. When he sees the rain he gives her a look, she just smiles back at him.

When the meal is done there is a pause.

"Stand right there, would you." She doesn't exactly know where this is going but she does as he asks. He comes up from behind her and covers her eyes. He holds his hands over her eyes and they slowly walk. There is another part of the evening yet and she's excited to see what it will be. A curtain is moved, and a few turns made.

They stop. He doesn't move his hands right away and she tries to think of where they are. It would be the living room.

When he finally removes his hands she sees the furniture has been moved out of the way and a bare hardwood floor open. It is indeed the living room and before she can ask what's going on he has started a CD player that had been sitting on the ground.

He doesn't say anything as cliched as 'may I have this dance' but when his hand is offered she knows what it means.

It's a mixture of slow songs, that last a long time. English mostly but other languages too. They start out very awkward. Always do when they try to dance. Before today they would break up and awkwardly abort the thought of dancing together.

She was taught to dance a long time ago, very formally, firm posture, rigid. He was first taught how to move around at gatherings and far less stiffly, to wild music and allowed to do as he felt, fluid.

Their feet take a bit to understand that they have to wait for the other. The styles so different that they argue, if rhythms and feet could argue. This is when they would have given up. But persisting, somewhere in-between they find a rhythm. She has her hands clasped behind his neck and he slouches slightly, so she moves them down to his shoulders and his hands lay at the end of her spine, right above the bow on her dress. It's much more loose and free than any of the waltz's of her youth and more structured this his dances. It's slow yet free.

The rain comes down and this is the background music to the music on the CD player. Shifting slowly across the floor they move, touching each other and feeling as if they touch the world. This is new, and it's wonderful and she loves this gift. She lays her head on his chest. He feels almost drunk, not that the wine from earlier would have done anything, for he has a high tolerance. This is the wibbily, wobbily feel of something else, something new.

They don't even notice when the power goes out and the player stops. The rain is now the melody they dance to. If they wanted to they could watch it through the window but they are too busy with each other. To care about rain or the setting sun. Now that they have found this, they didn't want to loose it. Together so different then what they are apart. It's new and a little scary but wonderful and so they keep dancing until they simply cannot dance anymore and lay on the floor and fall asleep in each others arms.