Performance

I sit alone backstage waiting to perform. My shoes point my toes perfectly and my hair is slicked back into a chignon. My leotard fits seamlessly and my makeup is flawless. However, my stomach is doing flips.
I have been dancing since I was old enough to walk. My mother is my predecessor. She taught me everything I know. Our limbs are symmetrical and flexible. We fight most of the time but when we step into the studio all of our arguments are meaningless.
The stage manager catches my attention and signals that I’m on deck. Tonight’s production is Swan Lake and I am the Sugar Plum Fairy. College scouts fill the audience and I feel the pressure. Onstage someone has already taken a fall and I can’t afford a mistake. I must be the shining star of this show.
As the music begins I get on point and make my entrance. My steps are in perfect rhythm with the music. My routine ends after an eternity. The applause is deafening. Audience members rise one by one for a standing ovation. Roses are thrown to me. I am beautiful.





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