The three of them were no older than 14, but curvy as so many young girls are. I remember being flat as a board at their age. You could tell they were all good friends; there was no third wheel, here. They bopped along ahead of me, to their own private soundtrack, laughing at their own antics. I smiled, started to pass them on the left, when one of them hip-checked me in the middle of another dance step. She was immediately apologetic.
“It’s OK. If I had moves like that, I’d shake it, too.”
Their “yeah, baby”s followed me down the street.