One’s Own

He felt a fool in white tights and the thin Capezio slippers.

Zoritch walked around him, inspecting his body from all angles as though he was a sculpture.

“Turn out your leg, like so,” said Zoritch. “And arms thus.”

He did as directed, watched the mirror as the master studied him.

“You want my opinion, then?” said Zoritch.

“Please.”

“You have an ideal physique for ballet, but at eighteen you are far too old. Boys at the Kirov start when they are five, six. Physical attributes, yes.  But the mental toughness? It is doubtful.”

It was the perfect thing to tell him.

Friday Fictioneers

This is a true story.

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8 Replies to “One’s Own”

  1. Such a good [true] story. For some reason some lines from Harry Chapin’s, “Taxi” came to mind (edited for context):
    “Well, another man might have been angry
    And another man might have been hurt
    But another man never would have let [ballet] go
    I [dropped my dream in the dirt.]”
    If it was the perfect thing to tell him, maybe it is what he wanted to hear?

  2. Was that “mental toughness” comment tossed down as a challenge? It was just what he needed. . . .to succeed? Or to give up? Nice job of leaving us to figure out what happens next.

Whatever.

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