She stood behind the curtian saying her mantra and doing breathing excersises. Waiting for her cue to slip onto the stage. Why am I so nervous, it’s not like I’ve never preformed before. She asked herself nervously. She had been in about 20 ballet preformances. Something in the pit of her stomach told her something would go wrong. It’s just butterflies, but why now? She switched her focus on her chocolate brown ballet flats closed her eys and opened them just in time to see the audience infort of her. She twirled and spinned under the light as it followed her with every move she made. Just as the tip of her shoe reached the floor her stomatch dropped. She turned to look at the right of the stage, the girls who were to the right of her were exiting the stage, so she followed, spinning and twriling to the curtain. What’s happening? The ballet instructor englufed her
“Im sorry Sara.” What why is she saying sorry? The answer came as fast as it hit her.
“Your parents have died in the car ride here.”