I

I wanted to clap or cheer- I know it gives her confidence but she physically can't bring herself to do it. The audience erupts in applause, though, and all I can do is stare. Not in a bad way. She has never danced in a bad way; she can manipulate her body into a language only dancers can understand. My eyes blur knowing all too well this may be the final time to watch her dance in person. From the yellow background to the red of her hair, I want to remember it all. I go through little glimpses of our history. The history between me and Red.