Her toe is bleeding again. Krissy knows the nail is never going to grow in normal. Miranda had told her back when they joined the corps de ballet that you could get acrylic tips for your toenails but she’s not sure about this. Miranda’s information is always suspect. Krissy is always amazed at the random thoughts that hijack her brain while she’s ostensibly focused on executing exacting choreography. But the steps aren’t in her brain anymore, they’re in her body, in her limbs. She hasn’t been distracted, that thought about fake toenails was a millisecond, the time it takes her torso to shift in Simon’s calloused hands. He’s lifting her now, Krissy arches, arms slicing upwards through the dusty light. Every cell anticipates the next move. The Move. Simon releases her and for an eternity of three seconds she free falls. Then he scoops her up again.
8 min @ Northwood, TO, 5.27.13
source: the sign en route to the toilet
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