You old fool, what are you doing here anyway? John howled in his mind, wiping his sweaty palms on his long coat. It seemed that just a little more and his gaze would drill a hole in the door that separated him from the spontaneous and atypical desire for him to learn to dance.

But he was never particularly impulsive! Price is one of those people who carefully thinks through his actions a few steps ahead before doing something. In that case... Maybe his actions weren't so impulsive after all?

An evil fantasy flashed out of place in his head: his former colleagues, having stumbled upon information about him on the web, laugh at the whole office and make fun of his picture in a shiny leotard.

First of all: where did the shiny tights come from? Secondly: John may have been retired, but he was still a captain! And he won't give anyone any reason to laugh at him!

But his ears still burned treacherously, and his fists clenched, as if preparing to fight his own bad thoughts...

After retiring, it became a real torment for John to return to an empty house. No wife, no children, not even a dog that would cheerfully wag its tail on the return of the owner. I had to get a damn part-time job, and in order not to completely lose my mind from loneliness, I had to get by in the evenings in a seedy bar on the corner.

This was not how he imagined his life after forty. However, it's not that he had free time in the army to fantasize.

Shaking his head, the man stepped back, not daring to follow his desires, and turned around and headed for the stairs leading down. All he can do is shoot and kill, all those dancing steps and graceful turns are not for someone like him.

The door behind him opened, flooding the unlit staircase with soft light, and the sound of the music increased. John froze for a couple of seconds before hesitantly turning around.

"Oh, I just got the wrong door," he forestalled, blurting out an excuse. "I was just looking..." The man looked around, looking for a way to escape. "Something..."