The body says what words cannot

~martha graham

I run down the street to the royal opera house. My girlfriend is running beside me. I'm cursing through my teeth "why did you wake up so late?" I say to her. "Don't be so incredibly snappish" she responds. We walk into the building towards the dressing rooms. My muscles are sore, I'm not used to being sore. I sigh, I'm getting old, I'm 35 and yes that might seem young but for a professional ballet dancer that's old, I'll be retiring in a few years. Two of the apprentices are talking while getting ready for class. "Yeah, today is the first day killian Larue will teach us parts of the cheography." I don't know why but I despise the apprentices, most likely because they're incredibly young, they remind me of myself. I'm now one of the principals of the company but that will probably not be for long anymore. I look in the mirror my tired green eyes stare back and my short light red hair looks beautiful in the light. What am I still doing here? I'm dancing myself to death.