diversion

18 1 14
                                    


1:19 pm

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1:19 pm


l.c.y.


A shriek fills the room as one of the girls whine, her whimpers making the rest of us wince.


"Lower! Come on!" our instructor's sharp words pierce through the screaming as the girl slowly sinks down to the ground into a center split. A hand is pressed onto her back, forcing her to reach the floor.


My dancing still needs improvement, but flexibility is something that I dare not to struggle in.


There are practically tears in the girl's eyes as she bites her lower lip. Our instructor narrows his eyes at her before slowly removing his hand from her back. Her form is shaky as she balances herself in a painful middle split position.


The rest of us are all in the same position, a few of us barely making it to our instructor's satisfaction.


I stare at the mirror in front of us, blanking out as he continues to walk around and correct our position.


The memory of Tony's smile dissipating into thin air is still stuck in my brain. Along with that, the things he had said.


"It's really worth it,"


I scoff lightly, finally regaining my thoughts and looking at myself in the mirror. All of us, all ten girls in the room, look pretty pitiful. Our faces are sweaty, hair matted as we continue to hold our positions shakily.


Is it really worth it, Tony?


I wish you could tell me a little more...


My eyes widen as I realize what I'm starting to admit.


But at this point, I'm lost in this battle between dream and reality. The fine line drawn across the two that I've been trying to keep from breaking apart is fading away.


The idea of whether "Tony" is a real person or has become a devoid section in my brain.


It was previously reserved for the millions of questions I had about the topic, but after yesterday night, I'm truly clueless. It's like the evidence fighting for both sides of the argument seemed to balance out, leaving me with a net gain of zero.

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