When she danced, I fell in love all over again. The handles fall off my doors, leaving me open as my skin to her hands, as the keys I carry in my eyes click my locks open, letting her in. She could reach in past my ribs, stain her fingers on my blood, and all I could do is lean in. I am a massacre before her, astronomical, strained, prostrate. Her fingers spell my name…. Okay. Sorry. I have to stop writing a moment. There is a freaking dragon in the elevator. I can hear it. Banging. My co-workers can hear it. It is there and getting closer. ….