The Sticky Note Chronicles

Paquita.
A ballet that spelled out the story of a girl, spared from a massacre and saved by gypsies, who later, after spending years travelling and dancing with the gypsies, returned to her home and is reunited with her family.
The story was well known in the ballet world, one of the greatest ballets ever choreographed.
There sat a ticket to a showing of it on the counter, beneath a purple sticky note,
Won’t you come watch
me?
-Norah
Blink.
“I had no idea she danced,” was exclaimed by the brunette as she stared at the ticket. The printed letters, showing a reserved seat in the sixth row, center. The blue eyes widened slightly, staring at the text written upon the almost insignificant looking slip of paper; a look of complete shock. That was… a great seat.
The actual weighing of pro’s and con’s lasted less than a fraction of a second.
A broad smile, sweeping herself dramatically away from the counter. The ticket fluttering to the ground lifelessly, as the brunette spun herself around the purple room.
Her hands held those of an imaginary partner, blue eyes half lidded, goofy grin upon her face. She twirled again, leading her invisible dance partner around the room, avoiding the furniture.
A beat playing only within her mind, yet the world played to it. Slow, rhythmic, the song flowed through the smooth, practiced motions of a ballroom dance. The curtains fluttered lightly as she passed by, dipping her partner gracefully.
Momentarily, her eyes fluttered, as if realizing what she was doing, her stature returned to standing up straight.
Scratching a hair through her short hair momentarily, she looked down as if embarrassed.
“Silly me…” She muttered.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Tha-thump.
Tha-thump.
Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump.
The muffled sounds of music and voices, subtle clapping at the end of a routine blocked out by the concrete walls separating her from the stage. She sat slouched in a chair, breathing in and out, trying to calm her pounding heart.
Stages… Stares… How traumatizing it is sometimes.
And Mel.
Did she agree to come?
Wondering offhandedly if she was sitting in the crowd didn’t help the painful crushing of her heart against her chest cavity. Norah wasn’t sure why.
The blue dress she wore was almost Lolita like, but cut down to be easily mobile. Her own long, curly red hair pulled tightly against her head.
A forlorn sort of sigh.
“This is no time ta get stage frigh’…” She muttered, rubbing her forehead, ignoring the crowd… Attempting to.
“Norah!”
Snapping out of her momentary peace-like state, looking up to face a brunette in the same outfit as she.
“We’re up,”
A long exhale.
Continuing as she walked the steps, as she entered the backstage area, as she noticed the fullness of the theatre.
“Oh dear god…” She muttered, another deep breath, the exiting of the former dancers, clad in greens and blue, portraying the earth.
Shuffling of feet as the lights dimmed, making it hard to see, hard to breathe.
The music started, and their feet fell in like, moving on stage.
The bright lights caused her to blink, but masked the crowd from her vision. Flickering of green eyes across the stage, only momentary.
Counting… counting…
And then.

They danced.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

A gasp.
Almost inaudible.
Watching the twists and turns, the sets changing behind them as the women danced.
And yet she knew – she knew which one Norah was.
The fiery redhead was hard to miss. But her motions, how completely precise.
And that smile…
A smile that could melt a heart of stone. A smile that could challenge those of children on Christmas morning, or the smile of a proposed wife with her new ring. A smile that could very well beat the sun.
And at that moment, as the young women danced along the stage, spelling out a story…
A young woman in the audience gasped very lightly, very shallowly.
Because she just fell for the defeater of the sun.