CONCRETE AND GLASS

Ana walked down the hallway. The concrete walls and floors never made her feel at home. Her family home, if you could call it that, was void of any color that produced emotion, other than sadness and loneliness. It felt like prison. No individuality, no expression, and far too much glass, lacking privacy. It was cold, figuratively and literally.

Her parents were equally cold. Dr. & Dr. Petrov were rarely involved in their only child's life. However, they reigned control over every aspect of her life. When she was younger, Ana learned piano, violin, and ballet. Now that she was an adolescent, she still remained in ballet class, but now music was replaced with languages. Her Mandarin, Arabic, and French tutors routinely visited her home. There was hardly a moment she wasn't preoccupied with homework, tutoring, ballet classes and home practice.

The one room of her house that felt slightly personal and homely was her small studio for practicing ballet. It was the one room in the house that she felt she could be herself. She loved to dance, although she felt indifferent to the structure of classical ballet. Performing the same sequence that was done for many generations felt tedious. What she really wanted was to dance freely, but she wasn't allowed to. "What's the point in dancing something that no one knows the story you are telling," her mother would say, "at least with Swan Lake, everyone knows what is the story, you are retelling a classic." Ana reached her studio room and finally let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Ana finished her warm up and her barre work. She walked to the corner of the room to turn on her speakers and play the music. She needed to practice The Dance of the Little Swans. The four person group dance was a little harder to practice alone, but she was striving to perfect her head movements with the dance. After a half hour, she could not retain her concentration. Ana felt an overwhelming desire to stop. She needed to break free of this tedious sequence that made her feel like she needed to be robot. Ana quickly reached her phone and stopped the music. She fumbled through her music app searching for anything other than classical music. She didn't mind it, but she just wanted something more modern, artistic.

Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine came over the speakers. She felt apprehensive at first. She knew she should be practicing. She would be scolded again if she did not have the head movements perfected by the next class. On the other hand, she had an overwhelming feeling that she just needed to let go and be free. Ana slightly danced, warming up as the music went along. Before she knew it, she was floating in the air, feeling as if for the first time in her life, she was actually living. She closed her eyes, embracing the sensation.

Ana came crashing down, back to reality as the speakers abruptly shut off. There was nothing but silence. Her mother stood in the corner, eyes fixated on Ana. Dr. Petrov's face was red with anger. Ana sat there, eyes glued to her mother, she did not know what to say or do. Her mother broke the silence. "Ana, what are you doing? Why are you wasting your time, instead of practicing. Your dance teacher is always telling me how you need to practice more. Yet, here you are, wasting your time, doing what?" Ana was frozen. She felt her freedom, her essence, being broken and shattered. She had only just discovered it, but it was already being stripped away. She rose up, slowly. Ana knew better than to argue with her mother. Her mother was ruthless in that matter.

"I am sorry mother, it will not happen again." Her one taste of true freedom faded as quickly as she had received it.