Honey

Nicole had always dreamt of being a dancer. She pictured herself adorned in flowing fabrics and twirls of silk, her body a living work of art that left spectators in awe. In her imagination, they showered her with beautiful red roses instead of crumpled up old bills. These dreams had long since faded, replaced by her harsh reality - dancing for strangers who wanted nothing more than to pull her onto their laps. She felt trapped, a mere tool, with no escape from this humiliating existence. Until her hero came in the form of dirty sneakers, and baggy jeans with an attitude seeming like she wanted to be anywhere but here.