Her skin glistened from the sweat; her clothes, soaked through, clung to her body. Her moves were powerful, strong and precise. 
Watching her dance was like observing perfection. She was magnificent. Yet she never seemed satisfied with what she did.
She repeated her routine over and over again, never stopping to take a break or have a sip of water. She didn't even seem to notice
that her clothes were nothing but wet cloth, doing nothing to hide her figure, nor that her hair was glued to her forehead and neck
where it had fallen out from the messy bun on top of her head. She did not seem to tire or even slow down, rather she seemed
to dance with even more force and passion each time the song started over again and she took the first steps of her routine. He could
not see her face but he just knew it was as amazing as the rest of this young woman dancing like it was her very last dance. He was in
absolute awe of her, her stamina and perseverance was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He had spent the last two hours glued
to the spot, watching her dance, not daring to move so as not to disturb her perfect concentration. He had been making his way out
of the building after a long day of practicing. He’d seen the girl enter the practice room when he’d arrived that very morning, but he
hadn’t seen her at any of the breaks. He now wondered whether or not she’d spent the entire past 12 hours in this room, repeating the
same moves over and over again. He had not meant to watch her, nor had he planned on stopping in front of her practice room, but the
single glance he gave inside the small window of the practice room had stopped him in his tracks. He had been unable to move since.
He was suddenly shocked out of his trance when the girl sat down on the floor, resting her arms on her raised knees and hanging her
head down between them. She sat this way for a while before pushing herself off the ground and turning off the music. When she turned
around to face his direction he saw her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks were stained with tears. She slowly walked to the center
of the room where she stopped, closed her eyes and raised her head to the ceiling. Then, in a single moment, she’d grabbed her bag and
disappeared out the door of the practice room leaving no trace of ever having been there. He stood still for a while yet, waiting for her
to return. When he realized she wouldn’t he went home. He made sure to look inside the practice room each day after that, his thoughts
never being able to leave the image of the beautiful crying dancer that had touched his heart and burned itself to his mind. He checked
the room once a day to begin with, slowly increasing the number of times he ran over there to look, but she was never there. One day he
decided to enter the room, he was desperate by that point. He needed to find some trace of her, something that could show him that she
was not a dream. All he could find was one CD, the one that withheld the song she’d danced to. He played it and slowly began to repeat
the exact same moves she had made that day. He spent several hours in the room that day, waiting, hoping for her return.
His wish was never granted.