Rebel in Dance

   She came back to the ballroom after seven years. It had been seven years since the last time anyone had used it. The candlelight was still dim, casting the same warm, ambient glow across the floor. Outside, rain poured relentlessly, the sound pressing against the windows, almost deafening. She walked into the room slowly. The mirrors along the walls caught her reflection, watching her as she crossed the space. The chandeliers hung low and silent. Nothing had changed, and yet everything felt heavier. It was almost 4 p.m. She paused in the center of the room, listening to the rain, aware of the stillness around her—and of herself standing there again.