I want to watch. I want to watch you dance with me, and we are the perfect couple. Synchronised. Fiddles and accordions. We know all the steps. We know them so well we can add flourishes. Constantly improvising. The surprises are welcome. Nothing can throw us, not even when you laugh and twirl with others. It is the nature of this Scottish dance. I am watching us now, as I sit in the corner of this Greek café. I catch the reflection of my smile in the window. Klarino and daouli. The rhythm was strange, once, but I’ve grown used to it. It isn’t music we could dance to. Not together. Too many surprises. We would be a couple less than perfect. Timing is a difficult thing. Especially at this distance.