An Informal Piece

Necks elongated, eyelids lowered demurely, arms lifted gracefully in the air. Black leotards, pink tights and pink shoes fill the room. Buns pulled tightly at the nape of the neck, there are no stray hairs ruining the bodies’ perfect lines. The plies seem simple, slow; but muscles are gently quivering underneath the tights. Every movement is calculated and executed with ease. The end result will be Swan Lake, or perhaps Romeo and Juliet. No, it is October now. They will probably perform The Nutcracker soon.