The Dancer

My next-door neighbor – Tara – is a professional dancer and every time I watched her leave, I wish I had grown up dancing instead of reading.  Reading was my favorite pastime, but sometimes I wished I had a hobby that kept me active and moving like Sandy always seemed to be.  She always seemed to be going to parties and always had a lot of people at her house any night of the week.  I was naturally an introvert so I enjoyed quiet nights, but I did wish I had taken some dancing lessons growing up.  I was also a little jealous of the clothes and makeup she wore on a regular basis.  I usually went for comfort instead of style which tended to get a little boring.   

On Friday night, I was sitting on my back porch with a glass of wine when I heard raised voices from Tara’s house.  I usually try to not be the nosy neighbor, but I usually only hear music and laughter from her house so raised voices was an anomaly.  I wasn’t normally a nosy person, but I found myself walking closer to the fence so I could listen.  I couldn’t understand the muffled yelling, but I knew it couldn’t be anything on the positive side.  Before I could make it back to my porch and hide the fact I was listening, Tara’s yelling turned to screaming and then complete silence.  That’s when someone started opening the gate to come into my backyard. 


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