From the streaks of grey in her hair, the slight tremor in her voice, the way she stood, and the thin wrinkles drawn across her face like old parchment, Simma and Sarah needed no one to tell them this woman was elderly; seventy, perhaps even more. Yet, despite her age, she carried herself with the fire of someone half her years.
"Get your ass up and enjoy the night!" she commanded, her voice cracking like a whip.
Sarah and Simma shared a glance, one that barely held back their shy laughter. Still chuckling under their breath, they rose sluggishly to their feet, their bodies moving as if weighed down by invisible chains.
"Now move your bodies. Come on, dance! Don't be shy!" the woman urged.
But their bashfulness was so blatant that even a passerby could have spotted it from across the room. The old woman studied their awkwardness with a sharp squint.
