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her eyes and opened them again, hoping something would change and the world would start to make sense again, yet she was still tied down with duck tape on the floor of the ballet studio, with the nastiest hangover throbbing behind her eyes. The studio seemed to be abandoned and she looked at herself in the mirror. There was a hole in her pink ballet tights, one of her breasts had escaped her black leotard and the bun on her head was sagging, curls escaping from their bobby pins and dangling in front of her face. She remembered going to her ballet lesson today. As a little girl she always wanted to be a ballerina, unfortunately her parents didn’t have money for dance class, so she became an administrative assistant, yet at twenty eight she’d finally summed up