I lowered my arm.
Then lifted it again.
The movement was simple. Shoulder released. Elbow carried. Wrist completed the line.
My body knew it.
My body had known it before I knew multiplication.
It still stopped halfway.
In the mirror, Silas stood near the studio door.
He had followed me without entering.
That was probably meant to feel like distance.
It did not.
"Do not say it," I said.
"I have not."
"You are thinking very loudly."
"That is not usually a complaint."
I almost smiled.
The almost made something inside me hurt.
I faced the mirror again and placed both feet into first position. My injured hand rested lightly on the barre. The other lifted.
Count the intervals.
Find the pattern.
Begin.
Nothing.
My reflection remained elegant enough to be mistaken for control.
