She fell.
That's how it happened, really.
A short flight from stage to floor that seemed to last years.
Then a thud.
Then silence.
The dancers froze, the audience froze, the world froze.
A small crumpled form on the concrete floor, a flightless bird, froze.
A gasp.
Then chaos.
Panic, panic, panic.
And Rosalie stood there.
Rosalie cried.
Rosalie had only meant to scare her, not....
Not this.
Now Rosalie was scared.
She had danced too well.
Jealousy grew.
The best dancer flew.
Now Rosalie was the best dancer in the room.
How long would it be before someone got jealous of her?
Rosalie was no longer second.
She was exactly like the first.
