She was gliding across the floor, rising and falling with the beats, her body echoing the emotion wrapped around each beat, filling out the moments in between. She could feel her dress flow around her, the air tickling the tops of her thighs as she spun quickly and then snapping at her ankles when she would stop suddenly, only to stretch further than anyone could imagine was possible. Always pushing just a little further, setting herself apart from other contestants.
She loved the sporadic applause. The feeling of her heart racing, even though she had only been on the floor for a few minute,s reminded her of racing across her father's fields in the Spring. Her long limbs reaching long into the next step, the power behind each step propelling her into the next one. There was no better memory from her childhood.
The music ended, her smile stayed, but her breathing became heavy and labored. The energy burnt in that two minutes was equivalent to running a mile or two. She bowed to the audience, prepared to do it again in a few seconds. Ready to take the floor.
Someone bumped into her. "Oh, excuse me," said the woman dressed in a purple ballgown. Joanne looked up, but it didn't matter. The woman was gone, her full skirt fluttering behind her as she raced to the entry line with her partner. Joanne let out the breath, surprised she had been holding it again.
Her reality dawned on her as she attempted to angle the wheelchair further under the table and out of the way. It wasn't her dancing. Not anymore. Not ever again. Unless she continued to dream about it, like she did every time she watched her daughter spin gracefully around the floor.
*** One Minute Writer ***
Nice twist at the end. It was not a unusual twist but you brought me there with such beautiful prose that I was not expecting a twist. Bravo!
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