I pass by the next classroom and look through the window to see what class is going on. A line of women hold a ballet barre with one hand as they bend their knees into a plié–a term I know thanks to the show Dance Moms and my niece Maddie’s love of dance. I plan to keep going to the end of the hall, where my mobility trainer is waiting on me, but a familiar face catches my eye, making me pause. Sloane is at the front of the line, facing the mirror. She’s wearing a long-sleeved top, a sheer skirt, tights, and leg warmers, all in various pastel shades. The softness of her attire contrasts with
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