Her and her sisters, danced around the ambassadors and the senators. Never saying anything serious, yet looking like everything that was said was being seriously considered.
She danced as she put on her clothes, dancing to the mirrors, periodically checking her front for stains, floating her hands ever so gently to her head surreptitiously checking every hair was in place.
Then she danced through the family, the eldest, she made sure the youngest were behaving, that the middles were saying their please and thankyous. She danced back and forth because it was her job to make sure everyone was doing as her parents needed.
Then she fell asleep on the couch, feet sore, hat askew, glasses barely blearily taken off and sort of clipped her collar.
Dreaming of the dance, dancing into dreams.
Not sure when she learned the steps.
Doomed to do them tomorrow, and the next day. Invisible steps to the invisible burden that her and all her sisters were doomed to do.
Unnoticed except for the traces of tattered slippers that appeared in the trash.