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There is a ballerina spinning to piano music.
The room also spins, and in the blur, the pianist’s face alights.
“Dad,” whispers Zach from across the room. He is faded, his body incomplete. Thomas plays in the corner, ignoring him, hitting the keys in perfect harmony as Melanie twirls, and never missing a beat. “Mom!” He reaches to her, but can’t move. Thomas plays louder, and the room spins faster as Melanie twirls in the middle of the black-and-white room.
There is a chandelier hanging from overhead that begins to drip blood onto Melanie, turning her pink tutu into a wet mess. It doesn’t bother her, she dances to Thomas’ music, smearing the white floor with blood. Zach screams at her, but she can’t hear him. He does it again, louder, and again, until his throat becomes sandy and his voice becomes hoarse and eventually weakens to a mere murmur.
On the floor, there is art. His mother has written something with her feet. As the room spins, Zach tries to read what it says, to figure out the meaning of the message. Except, the message is an image: a circle, and in the circle is a square, and in the square four triangles, and at the very center, his mother spins, dripping in blood, whispering, “I love you.”