A writer alone holds the memories of a world that has never existed before. If the author forgets, the universe disappears. There is no greater relief than when all of those unstable words are engraved safely on paper. Hazel Jin's world in particular is very lonely. As the only ballerina with real, double-edged ambition in the small-town Corduroy Ballet Company, it feels like madness to even have dreams. The world has been telling her to slow down and conform since forever. Though she fights this demand with all the fire in her--the impossible happens. She burns out of fuel. She loses sight of her future, her dreams, her own self. But she finds Maroon. Maroon is perfect. He's beautiful and kind and has vast ambitions he plans meticulously to accomplish. He is all she has ever wanted in a person, all she wanted to be as a person. If there were just ten more people like him in the world, nothing would ever be a problem again. Wholly enchanted and with no more cares to spare, she curiously tugs on the lifeline. It works. Her love becomes her flame and she burns brighter than ever before. She even balances on the brink of recovery. She could have chosen to dance her metaphorical solo, scintillating as brightly as she wished beneath the greatest of spotlights, but she adheres to her idea of the pas de deux . Broken in mind in spirit, she doesn't see another way. The prima ballerina is terrified to let go of the barre--it is the only thing holding her up. A pas takes two to dance. And Maroon, though he must have loved her once, is too occupied to take her hand. Hazel writes, relinquishes all her burdensome memories to one final confession to Maroon. Whether he knows or cares, these are her memories, and this is her truth.
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