“What?”
She turned the page toward me.
Slow dance somewhere that has no dance floor.
Beneath it, in smaller handwriting, she had added a note about spring formal. About a green dress. About the time I said no.
I remembered the dress immediately.
I remembered the crowded ballroom, our friends trying to arrange a photograph, and Elise holding out her hand when a slow song began. I remembered saying I did not dance. Most painfully, I remembered how quickly she had withdrawn the invitation.
“That note wasn’t on the original
