The dance floor story always started with, "It was nothing." A birthday party, loud music, too many cousins, somebody pulling everybody up because sitting down looked rude.

Then a man she barely knew matched her rhythm for half a song. He did not touch her. He did not need to. She remembered the space between them, the way he backed off at exactly the right second, and the look he gave her when the song changed. Later she told her friend it was harmless. Her friend asked why she was smiling while saying that.