The Ballerina And the Revolutionary

Cover The Ballerina And the Revolutionary
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Genres: Fiction
Perhaps, the inmates weren't expecting company? The television seemed hushed and the faces gazing intently at its shadow-play were silent. I tiptoed past beds, not wishing to disturb the serenity and sat next to Vivienne. My mother was fast asleep, snoring softly as her chest rose and fell with each breath. It seemed unreal to me, almost impossible to believe this was her. She looked twice her age. Her once poisonous, lips now quivered with shallow breaths and those powerful, defiant eyes were ...shrouded by tissue-thin skin that looked as though it might tear with the slightest force. Watching her, my feelings of animosity for this old nemesis became confused with feelings of pity and a soft, but heavy weight in my stomach. My hardened heart felt tender and I wondered, is this love?
    The warm air in the ward soothed me and made me feel sleepy too. I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again Vivienne was watching me. The older woman smiled warmly.
    ‘Giselle, you came,’ Vivienne said, holding her hands out towards me.
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