Ballerina

Nobody told her to stop. That's the strange part. There was no music playing, no teacher counting, no audience watching from the dark. Just a floor, a body, and something that needed to move. So she did.

Again and again. Not perfectly. Not carefully. Just enough to feel it. At some point, the movement stopped being practice. It stopped being something she was trying to get right. It became something she didn't want to lose.

So she held it. On her toes, in that brief suspension where balance feels impossible but somehow stays. One arm reaching, not towards anything, just away from everything else.

And for a second, it worked.

Everything aligned. The body, the breath, the stillness.

And then...