I swirled the ballerina around like a tiny toy top. The music clinked, off key, sounding hauntingly beautiful. The top of the sage velvet box held an outline of an old mirror, it smelled of my grandma and pearls. I sifted through the jewelry, all of in invaluable to me only.
I was beginning to feel unearthed.
The pieces of myself slowly cracking off, an old statue decomposing. This world was slowing falling away from me, a sacrifice one remembers from dreams. Giving up the ghost of themselves for unfiltered eyes.
The Kauffman Center of Performing Arts opens today. Only the white-collar, black tie and silver spooned will attend. I shuffle around a restaurant serving them what they desire, dressed in black, perhaps a bit envious.