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Kids squealing in their yards as they dart through sprinklers. The chiming music of an ice cream truck in the distance. Bees buzzing from flower to flower. A beautiful blue butterfly dancing through the air.

Dancing.

My transplant came upon us so suddenly I haven’t even thought about dancing until this moment.

I no longer have to worry about the tube sticking out of my stomach, the area now healed with a raised circle scar all that’s left behind.

My shoulders feel lighter at the idea of getting into the studio again. It’s something I know I’ll have to discuss with my doctor at my next appointment. I’m not sure if a month is enough time for them to think any sort of exercise, especially dance, is okay. Healing is going great, and I feel amazing, but that doesn’t mean my body doesn’t need longer to recover.

I check my phone and find that I’m one block from their house.

My heart starts to beat a little bit faster.

As I grow closer to the house it thunders in my ears like a mighty drum announcing my approach.

What if they’re not happy to see me?

This was a bad idea.

What were you thinking, Willa?

You’re such an idiot.

Like, seriously, THE biggest idiot on the planet.

Turn around. You still have time.

I CAN’T

I can’t.

I can’t.

I CAN’T.

I have to do this.

I stop outside the house and double check that it’s the right one.

A gate out front opens onto a stone pathway that leads up the Spanish-style home with a stucco outside and long branched trees shadowing the front.

A French door on the second floor opens up to a balcony.

It’s a nice home, obviously they have money, because a house like this in Santa Monica costs even more than the home I live in.

I follow the path up to the solid wood front door.

Are you going to do this?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Before I can chicken out I raise my finger to the doorbell and press it. I hear it chime loudly inside the house.

I can barely hear over the whirling of the blood rushing through my veins.

I’ve never done anything like this before. Put myself out there and braced for rejection.

While I desire nothing more than to meet them, I realize they might not want to meet me.nbsp;


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