Sweep

Day 4/30: Something based off of Shostakovich's Jazz Suite No. 2: 6. Waltz II.

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Ella heaved open a door on stage left, taking in the quiet grandeur of the deserted performance hall.

She wasn't quite supposed to be there, but her father was a janitor and he didn't mind giving her a bit of extra pointe practice on the stage where she hoped to one day perform.

Her steps were unsteady at first. Pointe was still very new to Ella. The other girls in her class were so much more experienced. She'd moved studios a month before, taking a chance in New York to grow as a dancer and an artist.

They had top-of-the-line equipment and shoes. Ella entered to a chorus of whispers when she showed up in a hand-me-down leotard, leftover tights from her last production of the Nutcracker, and worn-out shoes.

She fluttered further out on stage, attempting to keep her steps graceful and quick. Sometimes, they sounded more like the clunk of a cinderblock dropped against a sidewalk, but she knew. Ella tried again, working her way from stage left to stage right, counting her steps and twirls.

Her sweet, sweet mother listened to Shostakovich whenever she wasn't grading biology papers. The first strains of a jazz waltz echoed in Ella's head, a saxophone solo sweeping her off her feet.

Her father looked on with pride as she waltzed cross the stage, lost in her thoughts.

Little did Ella know that her teacher, there to pick something up from backstage, saw her as well.

Mrs. Delacour smiled at Ella and left, pondering the young girl's improvement.