The Dance

Lissette imagined the stage would be cold and dark and lonely.

But when she stepped in front of the orange screen and the lights flashed on and the soldiers clapped

she forgot the guards had replaced her striped pajamas with red leotards and a purple camisole

and she danced – like they told her to.

Bare feet flying, arms twisting, this once pretty girl (for she had possessed blonde ringlets

before the razor blade sliced them off) warmed to the shouts, brightened at the hoots and

pretended each man was a friend.  She danced because, if she didn’t, she would die.

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