From "Kindling" by Stephen Livingston

Building layers of music into sonic temples the DJ lifts the revellers to new heights of ecstatic dancing.  The beat throbs through the dance floor and up your limbs.  You have to move, jerking your torso to the rhythm, there is nothing you can do about it.  Your arms flail in front of your grinning, sweaty face in time to the snare drum as your legs stomp around to the thud of the bass.  You’ve been dancing solidly for almost three hours, it feels like centuries.  You begin to feel the need for rest and move towards the chill out area for a seat and some water.  Banging against other wildly grinning dancers like a crazed dodgem as you try to direct your body, unwilling to completely give up the dance just yet.  At the long couch against the far wall you spot Tommy and stumbling over collapse into the vacant space beside him.  Tommy looks at you, vaguely worried, and says “Are you okay?”