Joe and Nelly: Dancing Through Shadows
Joe Jukic sat across from Nelly Furtado in their cozy living room, the soft glow of candlelight flickering between them. Nelly, dressed in a loose sweater and leggings, looked pensive, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her teacup.
“Joe,” she said softly, “I feel like I’ve lost something… my spark. Those three years of lockdown—everything just slowed down. My body isn’t the same, my energy isn’t the same. I’m not the same.”
Joe leaned forward, his eyes warm and steady. “Nelly, don’t blame yourself for that. None of this was your fault. Those years were hard on everyone—mentally, physically, emotionally. But let me tell you something.”
She glanced up at him, her brow furrowed.
“I fell in love with you because of how you danced,” Joe said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “Not just on stage, but in life. The way you moved through the world, so full of grace and fire. That hasn’t gone anywhere, Nelly. It’s still in you.”
Nelly smiled faintly. “It doesn’t feel like it. I feel… heavy. Like the whole world got stuck in quicksand.”
Joe reached out and took her hand. “That’s the work of two demons, actually.”
“Two demons?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Joe nodded. “Beelzebub, the demon of gluttony, and his twin brother, Belphegor, the demon of sloth. They’re a team, you know. Beelzebub tempts us to overindulge—to eat, to binge-watch, to consume without thought. And then Belphegor steps in. He whispers, ‘Why bother? Stay on the couch. Skip the workout. Tomorrow is another day.’ Together, they trap us in a cycle of stagnation.”
Nelly frowned. “So they’re like a tag team, keeping us stuck?”
“Exactly,” Joe said. “Beelzebub keeps us distracted, and Belphegor saps our will to fight back. During those lockdowns, they had a field day. Depression, lethargy, hopelessness… all part of their game.”
She sighed. “So what do we do? How do we break free?”
Joe smiled, his grip on her hand firm and reassuring. “We dance. We move. We fight back, one step at a time. The antidote to their trap is action—small, deliberate steps that remind us we’re alive and capable.”
Nelly chuckled despite herself. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy,” Joe admitted. “But it’s possible. Bodies wax and wane like the moon. They ebb and flow. Just because you feel slow now doesn’t mean you’re stuck forever. The dance is still there, waiting for you to pick it back up.”
Her smile grew, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” Joe said firmly. “And we’ll beat those twin demons together. One step at a time. Maybe even a dance step.”
Nelly laughed, the sound light and musical. For the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of her old self returning.
“Okay,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But only if you dance with me.”
“Always,” Joe replied, pulling her to her feet.
And in the quiet warmth of their living room, they danced—clumsy at first, but full of life—banishing the shadows of Beelzebub and Belphegor with every step. The rhythm of their movement was a rebellion, a joyful declaration that they were still here, still fighting, still free.