Elyra was walking home, thoroughly fed up. She was in her own world, that much was obvious. At least, nothing had changed. Nothing significant.
Like I could be dead in the future, she muttered. How could they expect me to believe it? And even if I'd bought the first bit--which I hadn't--the dance studio was just stupid. They really didn't do their homework, did they? Or they'd know that I wouldn't believe them.
She had almost reached her house when she tripped over her feet. That's exactly what I mean! I can't dance, that's just stupid. Her knee was bleeding, a deep but clean cut. And if I did dance that would have scuppered my plans for the next few weeks.
Muttering under her breath, Elyra let herself into the house. She managed to spectacularly trip over a parcel on her doormat. "How did that get there?" she exclaimed aloud. "There is no way that got through my letterbox! Someone's been in my house!"
Now slightly frightened and definitely freaked out, Elyra picked it up. It was heavy for its size. There was no return address and the only marking was a small, three-pointed Celtic knot in the corner.
Elyra was intrigued and like humans since the beginning of time, this would always manifest itself into actions. She slit the tape and opened the parcel, undoing the box. Out fell two pairs of dance shoes.