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Imagine you're sailing through the air in a Jette leap.

Your legs nearly making a straight line as you float across the room.

You love this move because it feels like flying, like freedom.

You land as delicately as possible, then pivot into a series of PK turns,

feeling the breeze as you whip your head around.

Wish, wish, wish, wish.

It's been months since you've had the opportunity to dance for anyone,

and you can't believe how good it feels.

A friend from school is accompanying you on the piano.

A piece from Mozart that's light and exuberant.

Some of your darker, more serious pieces are more fun to perform.

But you don't want to meet people sad today.

You want to lift them up.

Halfway through your routine, you catch your reflection in a mirror.

Your costume is a pair of threadbare tights.

Under a slip dress, your mother made from discarded scraps of satin.

It's the Frankenstein's monster of dresses,

but it looks pretty as long as you keep moving.

Lisa, part of rain, Lisa, Lisa, part of rain.

You freeze, mid-step.

...