I did the last spin, my feet moving swiftly against the wooden floor, then I stopped, my arms spread, hair gummed to my face, my chest heaving.Mrs Irene, flashed me a smile— she was my dance instructor and also, the mother I never had. I'd met her years ago, whilst I was working part time in a cafe. I was on a break, cleaning the shop, vibing to my favourite song. I'd barely even noticed that someone was staring at me. When I finally did, we talked and she introduced me to professional dancing.It felt too good to be true.Because I felt most like myself when I danced.There was something about the way the rhythm curled around me, the way my body responded to every beat, every sound. Dancing felt easy, felt normal— and it was the perfect escape at the time from the shit I called life.She saw me in need and offered to lend me money, I wanted to accept it but Bruno refused so instead, she helped me by pushing me to participate in dan
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