"With all the bad stuff going on in the world," says our dance teacher yesterday, "I really just want to get it all out."
He proceeds to put us through our paces, making us wrench our bodies around faster and faster until we look like the floor of the studio is electrified.
Today, my neck and back have clenched into an spiteful knot that makes it difficult to look anywhere but the ground a few feet in front of me.
"Dance class last night was the equivalent of angry sex - he was having feelings and took it out on us," Katie replies when I complain.
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