It's About a 'She'
an excerpt

She wanted to feel everything she could before she laced up her boots. She wanted to believe she knew the steps before the sugar cube was lighted. She convinced herself that the dance was no longer necessary as she had danced vicariously through others.
She didn’t really believe any of this.

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Questions, whose answers, could be painful. Painful if truthful. She was not prone to complete truth. She didn’t lie. Not intentionally. She was not capable of lying. Rather, she didn’t lie with any degree of success. Why would someone with a tendency toward madness...

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. She swallowed the tiniest of remnants. She looked around. Nothing had changed. Yet. The clock. That time plus 45 minutes. 45. Forty-five. Practically an hour! Are you comfortable? Do your shoes fit OK? Did you want to put on any make-up? Do you need a sweater or a jacket? She drank orange juice. Someone told her to drink orange juice. She was comfortable with how she looked. Comfortable with what she wore. It was a rule she had heard somewhere: do not change your clothes once you are tripping