The scent reminded her of success. Of power. Of confidence. Of being comfortable in her own skin.
She brushed sleep out of her eyes, a little dusty from her wedding wash-up the day before, but I was eager – how often do you have a beach to yourself, a ballerina, and the perfect dawn? As she flew across the sand, bare feet barely touching the ground – her slightly damp hair flying out behind her, I knew there would be no regrets. Sleep could wait. Sleep can always wait.