#WritcoStoryPrompt24
A dance was an art form, whether in front of an audience full of gentlemen and ladies or in front of lascivious losers in a bar. She swirled around the pole as graceful and elegant as a respectable ballet dancer lost in the beauty of her own motions. Her eyes behind the mask that had been closed, opened as her set ended and locked directly with the steely, grey eyes of the man in the front row. Her heart skipped a beat. He knew who she was!...

She quickly grabbed her robe and ran backstage, hoping he had not followed her. She had recognized him instantly, even though she had not seen him in years. He was her childhood friend, her first love, her biggest regret. He was the reason she had left her hometown and moved to the city, where she had fallen into this miserable life of dancing for money. He was the one who had broken her heart and shattered her dreams.

She reached her dressing room and locked the door behind her. She took off the mask and looked at herself in the mirror. She hated what she saw. She hated what she had become. She hated him for making her this way. She wondered why he was here, in this seedy bar, watching her perform. Did he come to mock her? To pity her? To save her?

She heard a knock on the door. She ignored it, hoping it would go away. It did not. It grew louder and more persistent. She heard his voice, muffled by the wood.

"Please, let me in. I need to talk to you."

She felt a surge of anger and fear. She grabbed a bottle of perfume and threw it at the door.

"Go away! Leave me alone! I don't want to see you!"

She heard him sigh.

"Please, don't do this. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry for everything. I never stopped loving you."

She felt a pang of pain and longing. She remembered how he used to...