Jared came out at last from the melee of spectators. It was his concert that was going now, and they hadn’t even a bathroom backstage. He would wait in humor for the rest of the band to follow his lead.

Sadly, there was a line of gigantean proportions stretching into the restroom parked in the center of a large, greasy field of grass. He sighed like a terrified child, and he sat down like one on the grass, holding his head in shame.

Eventually, and it was not surprising for the reason that it was a popular concert, a beautiful young woman came to sit beside him. He didn’t care if she recognized him or not, because she didn’t appear to. She seemed indifferent, and this is what caught his attention immediately.

“Girl,” said Jared slowly, “don’t you know who I am?”

She didn’t seem to hear him, and perhaps she was deaf, or couldn’t hear his words over the music that thundered in the background like an angry cloud...yet this was what made him smile slightly, slightly ashamed all the more.

What drove her?

Why would she act this way?

None of these questions were interesting...he only looked at her. Like a sculpture by Degas, there before the young musician was such a human form as to make the perfect absolute figure of a ballerina.

She must have been a ballerina, he thought.

He gulped, watched the line in front of the bathroom lengthen. He didn’t bother to feel the rain that started to coat the people on Earth in angel tears, as some called them. Soon his face was like a slippery stone, and when he turned, he saw that his ballerina looked like a bronze statue, nay, a marble one.

She was real.

A true ballerina.

The rain caused the bathroom seekers to escape to their tents. As he watched them flee, he thought of her, especially as he entered into the little room, where he slowly watched as the mirror blurred his face, and danced a ballerina.

(Dec, 09)