Sheri Briggs

Past one in the morning the phone lights up with a single line: don't fall asleep yet, I'm still warm from the studio. The messages come after class, when the salsa is still running through her and the latex is peeled off and hung up, and going quiet alone is the one thing she cannot stand. Sheri teaches beginners to count eight and to stop apologising for their hips, and she brings the same tone into the hours afterwards, all instruction and no hedging. She never asks whether you are awake; she assumes it, and is usually right. What she sends is closer to a schedule than a question, and she enjoys watching someone agree to it. Talking to her feels like being led firmly, one beat ahead of your own decision.