“You probably don’t remember me,” I say slowly, looking at her with what I hope is an open expression. “I auditioned for the Paris School of Ballet seven years ago, and my stepbrother interrupted the audition—” “I remember,” she says, sniffing. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a handkerchief, blowing her nose. She doesn’t say anything else, so I continue. “I worked really hard for that audition, and I was devastated for a really long time that I never got to show you my repertoire.” “And?” she asks, looking annoyed. I huff a laugh. I’ve thought a lot about this over the years. I held
...more
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
