1. I move into a house with five bedrooms.
2. I followed him into his room or kitchen. We were playfully fighting/teasing each other about how he couldn’t cook. There was some short montage of ‘goofy moments’ we had had together, set to music. Cut back to the kitchen: he said things had changed, he was better at cooking now. I believed him, his whole life seemed different. Then I realized that I had overstepped a boundary while looking over his shoulder while he chopped green peppers. We started to talk about what had happened between us just then with that boundary, but then what had happened between us for that whole year and a half. I spoke lucidly and vulnerably from the heart, and, to my surprise, he was not looking away, but looking into my eyes. We were both weeping but not sobbing, and he spoke lucidly and vulnerably as well. We felt mutually understood. We actually talked, like he said people never do. (Dream on, Ariel, dream on.)
3. The director asks me to choreograph.
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