Shadow Puppets Her fingers, held high above her head, stepped delicately between the wan shafts of light. They sang of dreams and thrummed with the rapture of hope. They danced on shadow. She watched them pirouette and waltz amidst the airy specks of dust. Every flourish and flick of the wrist graceful and raw - passionate and loving. Each leapt across their shimmering spotlights and danced like nothing else in the world mattered; like nothing ever had. Only the dust that swam in the air like starry constellations against the dark, expansive backdrop of the tiny room and the faint beams of sunlight that traced their every move. These shadow dancers and their dusty stage - her entire dusty world. Then, all too soon, the lights began to fade, seeping back through the wooden slats like the pale ghosts of moonlight. She watched them go as all her little shadow dancers curled out of sight.