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This was a flash-fiction submission for Flash! Friday Vol 2-14 based on this photo prompt: 

Dancers

Nobody noticed. That’s what the balloons were for. And the white dresses. And bows. And the skin above our kneecaps.

But we felt them, pulling a leg one way, an arm that way. There wasn’t anything touching our faces. That seemed to be an oversight on their part.

Clap, clap, clap, they would, hollering for an encore. Always wanting more. More than we could ever give.

One time, a fellow dancer’s string snapped and her arm was free. Yet, she still held it in the air as it was because that’s how it had always been.

After the money was collected and the clapping subsided, we were corralled and cleaned.

Encased next to my friend, Charlotte, I brought it up again.

“What if we broke the strings?”

“Then what?” she responded, as she always had.

As Issa said, the world of dew, a world of dew indeed, and yet, and yet; I would dance again.

Not for them.

For me.

Doll

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