Tequila and Pink Ribbons
Minako sighed as she slumped on her couch. It was another rough day. Don’t misunderstand; Minako adored her ballet students. Watching their cute faces and excited squeals as they land their first pirouette is something she wouldn’t trade for the world.
But sometimes the pressure of teaching was a little much to handle.
She took shots of tequila as she turned on the tv. There wasn’t much to watch, just re-runs and cooking shows. She settled on a baking show, but couldn’t find herself invested. Her eyelids started drooping, and the tv screen became a hazy blur.
When did I become so hopeless?
It wasn’t always this way. When Minako was five, her parents took her to her first ballet class. Her mother wrapped her hair into a bun, tying it with a pink ribbon. Minako felt strange; she always wore her hair down. Walking into the class with a strange hairdo and an unfamiliar outfit, Minako didn’t know what to think.
Walking out, Minako’s face was beaming. When asked what her favorite part was, Minako twirled around laughing. “Spinning with my ribbon, of course!”
She refused to wear her hair down for the next month.
