It was like every other practice as everyone knew their routines and followed all of my instructions.
After class, my phone began to ring. It played my typical “Dance of the Little Swans” movement by Tchaikovsky.
My cell phone’s caller ID noted that it was my choreographer partner. I shook my head and answered.
“Yes, Isaiah?”
“What’s up, Gally?”
“It’s Galena, and you know this. You make me sound like a part of a boat or a spoiled villainous princess. What do you want?”
“I know you’ve been struggling with finding an adaptation, but how about we go local with our source?”
Local? What is he trying to plan?
C. M. B. Bell's Writing Universe 