What even is this?

The way she would laugh, a little nasally, which he wondered if she had given him her nose because his laugh sometimes sounded like that too.

How she would rock and hold him, a constant movement, as if she were dancing him to sleep which he liked to think was where he got his love for it.

He would wonder what his life would have been like if he hadn’t wandered off, if she had found him after only a few days, held him close as they went back home. Maybe he wouldn’t be so lazy or such a con artist, maybe he would have had a better education and been able to put his smarts towards a conventional goal. Would she have been proud of him if he did well in things like school or sports? Would she be proud of him now?

That thought always gives him such an overwhelming feeling of loss that he panics and has to district himself somehow. He sometimes hates these memories because he had people there for him when he was a child, Nestor and Pedrão’s families, warm and welcoming to him even though he had been just a kid off of the streets. They had loved him like they were his actual parents, made sure he didn’t go hungry and that he had a warm comfortable bed to sleep in each night.

They were his family.

He felt ungrateful when he would get these thoughts in his head, like they weren’t enough for him and they had somehow lacked what his mãe had been. How would he even know? He never really knew her.

Zé let out a loud sigh, mentally pushing all the longing and sad thoughts out of his brain and body with that breath. He shook himself, the goosebumps on his arms rising under his feathers with a small strange chill before it settled. Then, like that, he was okay again and he pushed himself up to go help Nestor in the kitchen, grinning when he saw that the vulture was covered in flour.

“You only needed a cup! How did this happen?” Zé laughed and rolled his eyes when Nestor gave him a very rude hand gesture in response.

Without dancing, Zé knew his life would be soulless. Yes, he would have music, because you can’t have dancing without it, and he would have food and other pleasures, but without dancing? Não.

He smiled thinking about how he had first danced with Donald while telling him all about Brazil, the first time Panchito pulled him close during a slower part of a song, teaching Zico and Zeca the basic steps and winning a contest with Ro with their perfect in-sync movements. Dancing had brought him so many great memories with friends and family and he looked forward to every get-together to make more memories with them as he moved.

“Zé!” He heard Nestor call, looking over to see him and Panchito waving him over, the rest of their large group outside already kicking his Birthday party into high gear. “Hurry up!”

“Don’t boss me around!” He said back with a laugh. “I’m the birthday boy, the party can’t start without me!”

“Oh, we’re going to!” Nestor yelled back and Zé rolled his eyes with a grin when Panchito let out a loud cackle. “I’ll take all your presents and drink all the alcohol.”

“I’ll eat all the food!” Panchito chimed in.

“Babacas!” He yelled, jogging over to them just as the music grew louder and he could already feel the rhythm igniting the need to move.