Lucy Buchanan stared at herself in the mirror of her wholly unimpressive dressing room in the bowels of the Northeast Ballet Theater. Although the room might have been unimpressive for all of its small, cramped size, as the principal ballerina for the company it was still hers, and hers alone. At least it had been. Her gaze wandered to the photographs fixed around the edges of the wide mirror. As many snapshots as there were of her and her friends at NEBT, performing, rehearsing and playing, there were just as many unrelated to NEBT at all. Her parents. Her little brother—not that Caleb at twenty-one was anything approaching little these days. Her cousins. Her cousins’ families. Husbands. Babies. Children. All of the things that—after focusing a lifetime on her career—Lucy still did not have. She avoided meeting the reflection of her own blue eyes in the mirror as she began peeling off the bits of tape that held the photographs in place. One by one, she removed the pictures, carefully sliding them into an envelope that she placed on top of the two crates that held everything else of personal note from the dressing room that she’d occupied for the better part of a decade.
What do You think about The Rancher's Dance (2011)?
