All She Wants To Do Is Dance
Eva skiffles into the kitchen, doing an improvised side stepping booty shake, singing at the top of her lungs to Hold On blasting from her computer. Old school rhythm and blues quells the melancholy. How can one stay down when rockin out to Sam and Dave? The kettle screams to life, undercutting the horns then rapidly overriding them, a shrill alarm. Eva pirouettes and hooks two fingers under the handle intending to slide it off the flame and onto the stove but her sock foot catches a sticky spot of maple syrup on the kitchen floor, a leftover from her gluten free buckwheat pancake disaster of the morning, and she trips into the counter. Her fingers slide off the kettle knocking it sideways, sending it crashing to the floor. Boiling water gushes out at a furious pace. Eva jumps back and crashes into the fridge, both feet flying out from under, landing on her tailbone in a pool of boiling liquid, scalding her hand and leg halfway up her left shin. Talk about ass over tea kettle. Stunned ...