Ballet Gala

Sweaty and drained, Lorelei's polished feet graces around the room. "Flex, point, flex, point," she does in front of the mirror. Persistent, Lorelei stretches the core of her thighs. 

The light dims through the window and shines her face. Spacious and immense the walls are mural filled with past generations of prima ballerinas. A family tradition to inherit this studio, Lorelei will be the 9th.

Placing her legs towards the dilapidated dance barre, her point shoes lay gently beside. Watching over, the baby grand piano she notices a letter. Reading aloud, it says, "Elegant and light, the stage is yours."