Light-pink satin toe shoes dangled from their ribbons, tied together and hung over the back of the wooden chair. Their owner sat on the floor mat massaging her feet. Her big toes showed traces of blood. Today she had ceased exercises as soon as she felt her toes beginning to burn. Overdoing it wouldn't be helpful in the least. The performance was only ten days away. She needed to be in strong physical shape in order to dance the steps, make the jumps and stand on her toes throughout most of the presentation.
She was going to soak her feet in cold water laden with Epsom salts. The minerals always soothed her muscles and were a comfort to her tired dancer's feet. She pulled the wide band from her forehead and her long black hair tumbled down to her waist. The silken sheen was a delight because it lent her the moral support females need to be self-assured and confident. She shook her hair and quickly pulled it back into a pony-tail. Getting up in one swift move, she walked to the bathtub in the corner of the rehearsal studio. The faucets were reversed so that when she turned the hot water on, cold water ran out. Her leggings were a deep periwinkle blue today and she pulled the bottoms up so they would remain dry. She sat down on the rim of the claw-footed tub and swung her feet in. They made a splashing sound as they went into the water. Reaching over she picked up the deep blue box and poured about 1 1/2 cups in to dissolve round her aching feet. Ah, she would stay just like this until her feet felt revived.
Twenty minutes later, cooled down, dried off and dressed in street clothing, the dancer left the studio to dance in her head until she would return the next day. All she ever wanted to do was dance.