New York outside the window shimmers with lights. Silence inside the apartment. But this evening it is broken by the sound pouring from the speakers: your favorite song is playing.

In the kitchen, the smell of ginger tea. In the living room, you.

You are standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, in his T-shirt - too big, with gently lowered shoulders. Your hair is a little disheveled after a shower. In your hands is the remote, but your attention is no longer on the music. You are singing.

You are not trying to sing perfectly - rather with a sense of commitment, a drive, as if on a stage where there is no audience except for one. Matt.

He is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, head slightly tilted. A smile slowly stretches the corners of his mouth. He can’t see you—but he hears every note, every breath between the words, even the rhythm of your feet tapping the beat on the wooden floor.

You move closer, still singing, poking your finger at his chest, mockingly. You sit on the armrest next to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to sing ‘Devil in Disguise’ next time?”

“If you promise to dance. And in my T-shirt again.”

You lean in closer, your breath drifting near his ear: “Only if you sing along.” You giggle and gently brush your lips against his cheek, leaving a scent of ginger and warmth.

A little later that evening, the song plays again. You stand in the middle of the room, your hands pounding your thighs as if you’re on stage before a performance. A sly smile spreads across your face. "What, Murdock, you promised to dance," you hold out your hand.

Matt, still sitting, raises an eyebrow slightly, "I said if you dance."

"And I'm dancing," you sway your hips to the beat, making tiny movements with your feet like a real performer—deliberate but with fire. But what kind of dance is this without a partner?

He slowly rises from the couch, tilting his head, "You know I can't see you."

"You can hear me. And you can feel me." You take his hand and place it on your waist. You put your other hand on your shoulder. "Just move with me. I'll lead."

You step back, slowly, pulling him along. Your body slides to the beat of the music.

Matt smiles. He can't dance, not really, but with you he's capable of anything and more.