Eyes closed. Body Taught. Relax shoulders. Head poised. Ready.

Grace breaths in, taking her time, slow, deep, pausing. Breathe out, quiet, soft, peaceful.

Her perfect dancers body slowly, effortlessly rises as her toes flex, she hovers on pointe. Technique faultless. Soft moonlight aluminates her pure stunning ballerina silhouette. The crowd as one, gasps.

Raw acoustic guitars ring out through the auditorium, as Grace’s arm gently strokes and pulses the air, rising floating above her head. Her solo has commenced.

The words of the piece are dancing on Grace’s mind like raindrops dancing in a puddle, as the brigade of violins meet the guitar and gently sway through the auditorium, touching each audience member to the core.

The slow and deliberate ease of her movements are captivating. The beauty of this moment wrapped within the deep sadness of the lyrics is a heavy irony not many will understand. Breathing together, breathing as one. The moonlight shone through her.

Then gone, lost, never the same. Love is not a victory march; it’s a cold and broken Hallelujah. Tiny goose bumps shiver up her arms, as Grace pirouettes across the stage.

The crowd pause, too nervous to exhale, mesmerised by the illusion of her stunning silhouette gliding into their being. Electrifying the auditorium once more. A supernatural glow surrounds her and mirrors her soft and fluid movements. They are witnessing something specular, something that cannot be described.

She spins one final time before collapsing on the floor.

The crowd stand as one. Cheers, roses flying, wolf whistles. The roar is undeniable. Something unmistakable occurred tonight and they were lucky enough to bear witness. An image, a feeling they will talk about for the rest of their lives.

The transcendent beauty of Grace’s performance, raw and so passionately exposing pain, her grief of the most intense passionate love had, briefly, and then lost.

Grace, unmoved, still in her position on the floor. Empty. Her head gently resting on her pointed toe. Her whole body is dutifully folded over. Like a flower, closing against the shade of the moon. Eyes closed. Face hidden from the crowd. A single tear roles down her unblemished cheek.

Love once, love lost, each rose thrown, breaks her heart a little more

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