Ambrose was known in the small town for his graceful moves on the dance floor. With a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step, he would captivate the entire room whenever he danced. Ambrose seemed to be in a world of his own, lost in the rhythm of the music and the joy of dancing. Ambrose was touch-starved, a yearning that danced within him like a silent melody. The fleeting touches of his fellow dancers left him craving for something more profound, something more.