Cirro glances up. His eyes are sharp and he takes in the person who is asking.

‘You are not supposed to ask me that. I am supposed to ask you.’

‘Well then.’ The one who has asked turns and begins to walk away. The one who has asked will sit down, and wait, if that is what is required. Perhaps, someone else will ask them to dance instead, or they will ask someone else.

Cirro leaps to his feet. ‘Wait.’ He does not grab the one who has asked him to dance by the arm, nor does he touch them, but they stop anyway, and turn to face him. ‘How do we do this dance,’ asks Cirro, because he was not the one who asked to dance in the first place, he is merely watching, and he has been watching for a long time.

‘I think you know,’ says the other person, and she smiles. ‘But I will show you anyway. Let us “expand” on this idea of one hundred and eighty degrees.’

Cirro begins to smile. He knows there are many things that are one hundred and eighty degrees, although some other people do not. ‘Do I turn my back on you now?’ he says.

‘Yes. And I will turn my back on you as well. This way, we are both facing outwards, and we are both at exactly one hundred and eighty degrees. Extend your arms, Cirro.’

Cirro extends his arms from his sides, and spreads his stance just enough so he is comfortable and strong. He feels the pressure of the other’s back against his, and knows the other is gazing out just as he is gazing out. What he does not see, the other one can see. This is the purpose, in this dance of one hundred and eighty degrees.

‘Now turn,’ says the other from behind him, and Cirro begins to turn.

‘Are we still at one hundred and eighty degrees,’ he asks politely.

‘I am, and you are. Despite our turning, we are both still at one hundred and eighty degrees. This is good.’

Cirro knows now that this is his friend. This one protects his back, just as he protects hers. This time, and by this person, he has not been asked to turn and face them, nor has he overstepped his mark. He has not gone to three hundred and sixty degrees, nor has he overstepped by five degrees. He is comfortable at one hundred and eighty degrees and knows his back is always protected, just as he protects the one who protects him.

‘Thank you,’ says Cirro.

‘And thank you,’ comes the reply.

And it is good.