I’ve never seen Anastasia skate before. Usually, one of us is arriving as the other is leaving, so I don’t ever get to see her at work, but today I’m twenty minutes early.
She’s fucking mesmerizing. I’ve been on the ice since before I can remember, and I’ve never, ever moved the way she is moving right now. She doesn’t even look like she’s skating, she looks like she’s floating; I can’t take my eyes off her.
Her arms reach out toward Shithead, they’re not even looking at each other but they still connect perfectly. Before I know what’s happening, she’s up in the air, resting on one of his hands, spinning, gripping the blade of her skate to hold her leg above her head.
I think he’s about to drop her as he quickly lowers her, but somehow, she’s spinning through the air, a combination of limbs that I can’t even keep track of. I wipe the sweat from my brow when her skates are back on the ice and let go of the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.