Applaud.
by: Abba Marie Moreno
Small limpid pearls of disappointment started rolling down my cheeks.
I was seventeen. It was my first balet recital. I danced to the mellifluous tune of Swanlake but my dancing wasn't that sweet. I wobbled. My arms and legs were flaccid. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel it in my throat. It wasn't graceful at all.
I took that final bow. The whole auditorium was silent. It was deafening.
A lone pair of hands was clapping--- it was Michael's. I felt horribly embarassed. I left the stage.
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