Eleanor danced to the beat of the music, flailing her arms toward the transparent ceiling above her and whooping her rage into the perspiration-stained air.
Stepping ahead. Back. She couldn't recall the last time she had danced so aggressively; typically, she did so only when she was enraged, but this time, she was disappointed—in someone—and the only person she trusted except her younger sister.
She continued to question herself as to why he would sell the club.
She threw her arms out and waved them from side to side, waist to waist. She continued to spin. Even though she was dancing vigorously against the tune, she was perfectly dancing to the beat.
Oblivious to the pain she was having under her foot, she continued to turn around on her toes and as soon as the music ended, she abruptly stopped as well, slumping on the floor.
