“This is fantastic!” the man said, adjusting his monocle. “I’ve never seen Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece before.”
“...”
“What is it darling?”
“I’m sorry, I think I should’ve been clearer. This isn’t a showing of The Nutcracker, it’s the Nutcracker!” the woman said.
“That’s somewhat disappointing, no wonder we have front-row seats. Is this some sort of different version?”
“Well, in a way.”
The lights went down, the curtain rose.
Twenty ballerinas glided onto the stage, tiptoeing in perfect synchronization with the music. The melody swelled. The dancers weaved a tapestry of movement — pas de quatre, grand jeté, double cabriole derrière — inducing a state of dream-like awe in the audience.
The lead ballerina spun forward until she was caressing the very edge of the stage. She leapt— face first, mouth open — onto the front row.
The man screamed.
— Bastian Espada
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