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Ashley Armbrewster found herself once again sitting in a doctor's office, preparing for the worst. She had gotten two other opinions, and they had both been the same, but as the saying goes the third time is the charm. She had seen Dr. Peters, Dr. Jenkings, and now Dr. Roberts. They were three of the highest qualified doctors New York.

She liked Dr. Roberts immediately, he had made her feel at ease, and she trusted him, and she did not trust a lot of people. Dr. Roberts came back into the examination room with a grave look on his face.

"Miss Armbrewster, your ankle has not healed as we would have liked. Your subtalar joint, and true ankle joint are still compressed . . . ."

After the word compressed Ashley had stopped listening. She immediately burst into tears.

In between sobs she yelled "I can not believe it, I'm 20 years old! 20! I am supposed to be at my prime, not fucking retiring"

"I am sorry but if you want to walk when your 30, I suggest you give up dance." He finished.

She kindly, or as nice as she could, thanked the doctor and left. It was pouring outside, and of course Ashley hadn't brought an umbrella. She walked to the side walk and tried hailing a cab. She was unsuccessful for five full minutes. Finally one she was drenched a cab came, she climbed in and said to the driver "Fifth and Larpenter please."

The sights of New York flew by, but she was lost in thought. She had been in dance classes for as long as she could remember. Her mother first enrolled in her in Madame Chere class when she was 4. Through out the years she learned tap, jazz, hip-hop and her favorite ballet. Dance was the one thing she accelerated at through her life.

She trained everyday for two hours a day, until she was 17. At age 17 she had received the most important letter in her life. She still had the letter carefully folded up in her ballet bag, she knew it by heart.

Dear Miss Armbrewster

We are pleased to welcome you to . . . .That was all she had gotten through before celebrating. She had made it into the prestigious American Ballet Company. And now all her dreams of becoming the next Anna Pavlova, were smashed.

"What the hell can I do with my life now?" She thought as she paid the cabdriver.