Dancer

The candle flickered in the darkness. It reflected from the polished stage floor, eerily still. It illuminated her torso in shifting shadows. Of her face, only her chin was visible, crimson lips stark against the bone-white skin. She moved, a doll brought to life by the puppetmaster’s strings.

“You used to love to watch me dance,” said her voice in his ear. He could not answer her. She’d seen to that. “You took that away from me. You took everything.”

On the stage, she hung poised on a single toe. Her lips curled faintly upward. She blew out the candleflame.