The lights flicker on dimly, buzzing in the still air. Salt air blows through the tent, slowly, softly. People murmur quietly in anticipation. The girl can hear the announcer, with his American voice, charming and happy. She swallows.
The curtains begin to slide open. The pianist plays a haunting refrain. Straw crunches under the audience's boots as they shift from foot to foot.
Her wings spread away from her face, and the harsh yellow light glares into her eyes. The vast sea of faceless Americans seems to breath a collective gasp. Her lace dress falls like water around her knees as the rises, slowly, like the old man had told her to. Soft curls of flaxen hair drip from her head, casting her eyes in dark shadow.
Perfect.
She stares at the floor, willing herself not to cry.
Her wings extend, and a single tear rolls down her cheek.