who: @beckhoffman
when: after the spring recital
where: auditorium
Light hair that glistened with sweat was pulled back tight and secure just as Greer properly showed her, a long way from her former attempts at a slick back full of flyaways and noticeable bumps. She still wore the white tutu from her last performance, and would likely have to be wrangled out of it by the costume department. She pranced along the wood floor, gliding on the tips of her toes toward Beck. She came to a screeching halt and white and red rose petals rained all about her, nearly taking the other girl out with her. “Oop, sorry,” she fumbled over her apology and quickly into the reason for her pestering, “I can’t believe this is one of our last performances for the year. One of your last performances here ever.” She shook her head, as if capable of physically denying that reality. She plucked a red rose from the bundles she held in her hand. “I wanted to give you this. Y’know, as a reminder you’ll have someone here that misses you,” she spoke solemnly. Reluctantly, she handed over what she believed to be the perfect, red rose; lushly blossomed and crimson without a hint of a flaw. “It reminded me of you,” she explained coyly.
