At prom, only one boy asked me to dance because I was in a wheelchair. Thirty years later, I saw him again—and this time, he needed help.

“We should take a picture.”

Then they drifted back to the dance floor. Back to movement. Back to normal.

Then Marcus walked toward me.

I looked behind me, sure he meant someone else.

He stopped in front of me and smiled.

“Hey.”

I glanced behind me again, still unsure.