I finish my book. It is very relaxing to not have to worry about someone finding you reading an "improper" book.
I return to my room, hearing music on my way. I change into a gown that would never have been aloud into my sight back home. It has a square neckline, with gold thread stiching. It contrasts with the blues of the skirts. Swirling patterns with no beggining or end.
It is embarisingly high, showing my ankles and claves to the world. I think it is okay, judging the other girls outfits and the lack of proper males on this island. I slip on flats from my ballet classes and exit my room.
I enter the ball room, and see all of the other girls twirling around. They kind of stop when they see me, and I can guess why.
Since they are less formaly brought up, I can assume I came off as stiff and rude.
I smile and say hello.
After introducing myself, They start to hesitantly return the grin. I dance with them, showing them the formals, waltzes, tangos, and many others.
I love to dance, though I have never admitted it before. I love it more than is right. It is freedom.