She pointed her index finger at the window portal, which now reflected the empty space between them and the nearest star. George stared out the portal as the door softly closed behind her. He scratched his chin and thought about what she had said. He nodded to himself. Dancing lessons? He smiled. If a pair of argyle socks could cause chaos on such a scale, who knew what would happen if he chose to dance his own steps?

Note: The author wastes a fair amount of time blogging about a variety of subjects over at Walloworld, where this story originally appeared.