Creation Can't Be Forced

When I follow my co-worker into the group office, they're playing "Uptown Funk" on the radio while all four of the women who share the room watch me, and I get the feeling I've been set up.

"Riana says that you like to dance to this song," one of them says expectantly.

"Ladies," I say, backing out of the room, "I am not a trained monkey, to dance for your pleasure."

"I dance when the spirit moves in me," I continue, making it out the door, "like the spirit of God moving across the face of the water."