Partly Cloudy, 64°
According to sources outside Veronica Chase Dance Studio this afternoon, a businessman watching a dance class through the front window dared to imagine what if.
“What if I just gave Robertson my notice tomorrow and demanded my month’s pay on the spot,” the man reportedly speculated, watching as a ballet instructor demonstrated for the class a versatile, complex and elegant choreography. “What if I used that money to buy a dance belt and a pair of tights and a month of dance classes at this studio? What then?”
The man, whose attire reflected his successful career in finance, was then seen to put his briefcase down for a moment, discreetly attempting the turn-out being performed by dancers inside the studio.
“What if,” the man thought, imagining his new life as a skilled, passionate and incredibly unique dancer, indeed, the only member of The Royal Ballet to begin dancing in his late thirties after leaving behind a successful career on Wall Street and a comfy rent-controlled apartment on the Upper West Side for a shot at glory in pointe shoes. “What if—“
Sources indicated that the man’s reverie was suddenly cut short, interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone. “Hello, Mr. Robertson,” he said into the phone, turning his back to the window. “The Marcy account? Of course, sir. I’ll have that on your desk by tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir,” he reportedly added as he picked up his briefcase and began to walk away, letting a life that could have been, a dream he, perhaps carelessly, had let himself dream, die silently, without ceremony, on the sidewalk in front of the dance studio. “I won’t let you down.”
