When she saw the lights overhead, she felt a small part of herself struggling to become free. She saw couples and families dancing to the tune as her husband looked in disgust at them.

"They're dancing...no shame..." he muttered as he looked around. Her sons had gone away to be by themselves, but Faiz didn't care.

"Can we buy a pancake?" she asked, looking at a boy, maybe her older son's age, flipping a pancake.

He nodded. The music turned up a few more octaves as it blasted in the overhead speakers but Zara stood sheltered under the cover, watching the flames lick the pan. More so, how they danced to the tune.

Suddenly, she had a maddening urge to dance. Out in the wild.

Like the flames and the flowers did. Just like she did when her husband was out. She thought of all those time when her children went to work or school and Faiz would look to sell the curtains and draperies in his store.

She would dance secretly with the curtains drawn, the radio in the kitchen, beans and potatoes on fire, being flipped, stirred, as the chilli powder, pepper, onions would go into the pan. Ow she'd take the ladle and stir it, crooning to the tune, high enough for her to hear, low enough so others wouldn't.

How she'd asked him so many times for one dance, when they'd go for dinners. His refusal.

"No. Don't you see it is shameful enough? Much more so, since you're a woman?"

How his sanctimonious gestures over there irked her when she knew the truth.

The withdrawal beneath the veil, and the shy smile she'd have to plaster.

Now, her soul would be set free.

She went behind the counter as Faiz raised his eyebrows, but she paid no attention.

"Zara."

It was a warning, a threat laced into one made to sound like the nectar dripping from the honeycomb.

The boy, whose name tag read Dean, watched with surprise as the customers bristled, shouting for a pancake.

"Where's the other one?"

Silently he pointed as she went back and took a pan setting the batter into it. Her muscles eased their way despite the stares.

"Zara!" he shouted.

The people looked at her, but she watched it intensely, closing her eyes and then, when she opened them, fire lurked in the shadows.

The music reached her ears, tingling it as a strand of her hair came out. She raised her hand, and twirled. And then, once more.

Why is everybody so serious
Acting so damn mysterious

It seemed to be speaking to her.

Got shades on your eyes
And your heels so high
That you can't even have a good time

She really wanted to tap her foot. And she did. One, two. Tap the left one, left one and right one.

Everybody look to the left
Everybody look to the right
Can you feel that yeah
We're paying with love tonight
It's not about the money money money

She thought about the designer dresses she had and the expensive Dior perfume she had on. Nothing made her heart beat like the hooves of a horse running through the thickets now. 

We don't need your money money money
We just wanna make the world dance

The music faded as she flipped the pancake and handed it to a small girl, a smile on her lips.

"Thank you."

"Zara!"

Faiz came around and reached out but the exhilaration throbbed in her like an alive bird, waiting to be set free. She twirled around.

"I have work, Faiz."

She handed her next pancake to an old woman as Faiz gripped her hands. "Come with me."

She looked into those hound like eyes. "Faiz. Let. Me. Go."

"You are my wife."

"Sir, please leave her," said Dean, fear shaking his arms.

"I can command what to or what not to do with her."

"She isn't a toy!" someone shouted. "She's a human."

Faiz looked at the mob as Zara looked back, expressionless. There was no fear. The flames had left a fleeting ash in those eyes now.

He pulled her as she followed, but turned to look at Dean, a grateful smile on her lips. He looked back sadly, the burnt pancake in his hands. She shook her head, gesturing to smile.

"Tell me. When did you start this...shameful act? Are you not ashamed?" his hands tightened around her wrists.

"I have always danced," she laughed, tilting her head to the skies. The moon shone as she looked for protection.

Someone grabbed Faiz from behind.

"That's an assault."

A policewoman looked at him sharply as another police officer dragged him.

"She's my wife! I get to do what I want!" Faiz protested.

When Zara finally looked around, there was a silence, as she stood alone with the people clearing out. She weaved through the thinning crowds, stopping in front of Dean.

"Need a hand?" she chirped.

Dean smiled, a tired one from the day's work as the messy hair fell on his forehead.

Two hours later.

"That's it! Flip it, twirl about and dance to the sound!" she crooned as Dean flipped the pancake and she caught it in her frying pan, swaying her hips to the silent paper cups on the floor as they stared and applauded after a long, long time.