Write this story "You will pretend to be in love with me. You will hold my hand. You will go quietly. Or I will kill you." He told me, I have no choice, so I hold his hand and lay my head on his arm and smile.
e into the ballroom, yet my dad calls me grace for a reason. Not by my act of gracefulness, but the lack thereof! Always holding a song in my heart and the passion to dance when anyone is watching, I find my heart full and my feet moving.