Empty Room

Rita walked into the empty room, glancing about out of habit even though she knew she would be alone. She gently placed her bag with a change of clothes and a towel in the corner closest to the door. Straightening her back and stepping up on to the toes of her Pointe shoes, she began stretching her muscles a little with walking to the mirrored wall that went the distance of the long room. Grasping the rail in support, she began stretching in earnest.

After finally stretching her limbs, she decided to warm up and began doing triple runs; a long stride followed by two small steps around the room to raise her heart rate a little. Every now and then she would perform a grand jeté; leaping through the air with legs split apart, stretching the muscles even more. Suddenly, after landing one of the leaps she began her routine. She had created the dance within this empty room and had practiced it hundreds of times. Her form was exquisite, her movements were ballon. She twirled and leapt, landing softer than a feather every time. Soft golden strands of hair worked themselves loose as she moved about the room, but she didn’t notice.

She truly was a sylph. All of the movements were completely natural to her, no longer even needing to keep measure or tempo, she instead thought about her day, work in the office, and her insufferable boss. She never faltered one movement, seemingly able to change directions in midair. Her movements slowed, the music she no longer needed would have slowed too. She remained extremely graceful and controlled despite the slower speed. She leaned forward and lifted her back leg, keeping it perfectly straight in an exceptional example of arabesque. Her leg lifted until it was at a ninety-degree angle; à la hauteur. After holding the pose for what seemed forever to her muscles, she slowly twisted and lifted in to attitude en pointe. Her back now in line with her support leg and her other leg held before her, knee bent and perfectly in line with the ankle. Arms in an impromptu pose, one out in counter balance to her leg while the other was above her head and ever so slightly curved inward.

“Bravo!” Someone behind her broke the silence then applauded lightly. Rita spun about to face where the voice came from and held her arms across her body almost as a shield. She became aware of the stray strands of hair and brushed them behind her ear. Her cheeks felt warm and she was sure they were rosy with a blush, not just flushed from exertion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The voice belonged to a tall man in his mid-twenties, but all she could see were brilliant blue eyes.
She bashfully averted her eyes after a moment. “I wasn’t expecting an audience,” her voice was almost too soft to hear.