"I'm not going to try and impress you because that would mean that I don't see myself as someone worthy of your attention. I don't need your approval or affections. All it would do is waste my time and yours.."
"but mainly mine."
"Someone once said that dancers work just as hard as policemen, always alert, always tense-- but see, policemen don't have to be beautiful at the same time." George Balanchine
Bold = Korean
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"Mr. Kim, you're looking for someone, aren't you?" Mary Thomas glanced over to the older man, looking for some kind of reaction that would help prove her point. They had been walking around for the past hour, greeting every single girl that lived under her roof and he had yet to show any kind of real interest in anyone. She wasn't some kind of mind reader like her oldest believed but she was an intellectual. The way his smile seemed to drop every time someone shook his hand screamed that he was searching, for what, she wasn't sure.
The only person that had anything physical that he could feel on their hand was Jae Hwa Lee, the 16-year-old girl that she had been taking care of for years after being thrown from family to family. The young teen had a scar on her right hand, the pink, jagged line reaching from the base of her pinkie to her wrist. Jae always had a small temper so the possibility of getting it from a fight was incredibly high even if the girl swore up and down that it had always been with her.
When Mr. Kim continued to stay quiet Mary decided that taking a small visit to the studio wouldn't hurt. The Korean man quietly walked beside the foster mother, seemingly thinking over what to say. His walking cane tapped lightly against the cobblestone walkway, cloudy iris's staring straight ahead. The foster mom had noticed early on that while he was completely blind, his other senses were incredibly intuned. Oftentimes side stepping in order to evade a running child or piece of furniture that had been moved by one of the rowdy kids. He was definitely peculiar.
~~~~~
I moved my right leg to the ballet barre, resting my ankle against the bar and pointing my toes. My right arm was stretched up above my head in the high fifth position, bending my arms slightly so there was a slight curve and keeping my shoulders down. I then slowly moved forward pressing my upper body to the limb stretched across the barre. Every 30 seconds I switched to the opposite leg, listening to the rustling of leaves outside.
It was too quiet.
I had learned early on that nothing good comes after silence. You know what they say, "The calm before the storm." I much preferred the gentle whistles and hums that escaped the trees early in the morning. Bits of sunlight penetrating through the cracks of the branches and leaves, leaving a pattern across the grass.
I guess you could say that I had a mild fear. I wouldn't go as far as saying sedatephobia but pretty damn close. It was the anticipation that killed me, the possibilities. The-
Click
My body coiled up like a snake, ready to attack whatever was moving closer to my sanctuary. The taps got closer by the second, each one louder than the last. My heart seemed to synch with the clicking, hands gripping the barre tighter. That's when Mrs. Thomas and our guest arrived through the opened doors.
