Never in her life, not once, has she danced the way she wishes to, but futility has become an accepted companion. The idea that lives beyond the mirror makes teasing, flickering appearances but never quite shows itself, never solidifies into something that can be looked at and not just glimpsed. She might surprise it as she whips her head around, spotting during pirouettes, or catch it flitting though one hand or foot. But it never stays.
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