Enamor

III

~

I crash onto my bed in exhaustion. I finished my shift cleaning at the orphanage and dance practice begins tomorrow. I hear a squeak and I shift looking at the floor.

"Remy".

Remy squeaks happily.

I pick him up and gently pat him.

"You're so sweet aren't you, people misunderstood you."

I turn over and lay flat looking at the ceiling as moonlight pools into the torn room.

I think about my life. Something I do not often do. It is painful I think, to ponder about my parents, my loneliness. I have no one. I had to survive in this world on my own.

I have no one that loves me. I want it. I want to find true love, but I am not that girl.

I am not she.

The Woman who has every guy on their knees.

I am not Cinderella, I do not get the prince at the end of the story.

My eyes litter with tears.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," I whisper in the cool night air.

It's moments like this in the dark when you can be truly vulnerable, tricking you into thinking the night will keep your secrets.

~

I am awoken by the blaring of my alarm clock. Unpleasant. An unpleasant reminder that I have a long, tiresome day ahead.

But a new one full of an amazing opportunity. I have not been this excited for something in years.

This role will most likely even pay around five thousand euros. Something I can not pass up. It's how much I make in five months.

I get up make my bed and head to the kitchen.

Remi is already helping himself to a small piece of bread.

"Good morning."

He squeaks happily and heads over to my feet where I bend down to pat his head.

I make my coffee and breakfast and put on my nice stockings, warmers, and pink tank with a white sheered sweater.

My dance bag is worn but I can not afford anything else. All my clothes are worn with my good stockings being the only pair without holes. I am pretty much dirt-poor.

I sigh glossing my long curly hair into a bun and looking at myself in the rusted mirror of my bathroom.

I guess I am quite beautiful. There is no point anyways.

The lights flicker.

"MERDE!" (SHIT) I yell out in frustration. I changed the lights a month ago even though I knew they were crappy bulbs. They were the cheapest ones.

I grab my dance bag with my slippers and change of clothes and head out.

I see a very nice Mercedes parked right outside. What is such a nice car doing here in the ghetto?

I squint at the driver seat attempting to see if anyone was in the car but the windows were tinted.

Somebody is definitely going to steal that car.

The streets are bustling at nine in the morning as usual. I take a train to the rich part of Paris, where the Royal Academy is. That is where dance practice will be held.

I had always wanted to go there as I child.

"One Day" my mother would tell me.

That day never came.