At Prom, Only One Boy Asked Me to Dance Because I Was in a Wheelchair – 30 Years Later, I Ran Into Him Again and He Needed Help

“It helps me,” he said. “Makes me feel less rude.”

I laughed before I meant to.
He took my hands. He moved with me instead of around me. He spun the chair once, then again—slower the first time and faster the second after he saw I wasn’t afraid. He grinned like we were getting away with something.

“For the record,” I said, “this is insane.”

“For the record, you’re smiling.”

When the song ended, he wheeled me back to my table.