The Jig
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In the middle of the stage, dancing the Irish jig–heel toe, heel toe. I was entranced–mesmerized by her swift yet organized movements. The crowd applauded as she exited the stage.
Creeping into the backroom, I watched as she sipped her tea. My eyes drifted to her feet. The jig shoes gifted to her by my mother. They should’ve been mine.
I attacked her from behind. We struggled. Her neck cracked as her head bounced off the edge of the table. I ripped the shoes off her feet and sprinted home hoping to earn my spot in the upcoming dance competition.
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While writing this drabble, I was watching the video below. Enjoy!