- I felt sorry for him. I couldn’t explain why, but suddenly a part of me began to feel a certain pain that I knew was for him. I stopped and simply looked at him with silent wonder. Hollow cheeks, tousled black-gray hair, deep eyes, and an old fashion suit made of navy blue velvet. He didn’t say anything as I, a young and naïve ballerina, searched his face for some sort of reason as to why I felt this pain. He gave me no reply. The music began to play again, and I knew that we had come to an understanding. I continued with my rond de jambes, taking care to make each tiny movement something worth seeing. The music played on; I kept dancing. It became faster, I found myself in the center of the room, circling some unknown space. The music grew and grew; the faster it became the faster I circled. I began my fouettes. The music kept growing; I forced myself to go faster still. I couldn’t take it anymore. My chest heaved and my forehead was covered in sweat. I stopped. I couldn’t breathe. And then he came in; the boy. He walked over and took me in his arms. I let him. Slowly, gently, he pulled me into a pas de deux. My eyes asked him all kinds of questions that even I didn’t understand. And, somehow, he answered right back. That face, and those eyes, cold for so long, turned to warmth that I knew was meant only for me. I smiled. He smiled back as he understood that I said yes and twirled me around the room. For a while, we were the only two people on the planet. The love buried deep within us shone bright. I was happy. I didn’t care what he was; I didn’t care what everyone thought about his grandfather, for once in my life I was truly and utterly accepted. My heart whispered, “I love you.” And he heard me. Then I left the world behind.
Manage Your Items