Her fragile porcelain legs move softly, leaping with precision and grace from each smooth ivory key to the next, playing a quiet lullaby. The figurine twirls her long thin legs, thick pink ribbons laced up her calves like the sandals of a dainty Greek goddess. Her ballerina slippers tap each key with elegance emitting a soft sad sound from the piano of lost love. The lullaby sweetens as she pirouettes rapidly across the keyboard, keeping her long legs on each key just long enough to produce a sound. The piano sings a song of happier times as she dances and leaps, swimming through joyous memories. Her back is finely arched and she moves her arms with ease and precision despite the small chip on her left shoulder. Her eyes are painted closed and a permanent grin plays on her rose lips as she leaps through the air, each time expecting familiar arms to embrace her and lift her in the air. Each time she is left disappointed and the disappointment begins to seep quietly into the melody she plays, gnawing at her with an empty sadness. The lullaby slows as thoughts of what was lost flood her mind.

She moves with precise beauty down the keys and the notes become heavy and deep with sadness. Still, she leaps and reaches out for the hands of a ghost that cannot touch her. She searches blindly for familiar masculine hands to find her waist and lift her into the air and make her feel as if she were flying.

She aches to play her favourite ballad, a song that requires two pairs of feet to play but she no longer has a partner to dance with. She dances on to the tune of her sad melody. Thick sad notes fill the air as she glides from each key on her toes, staying on each one just long enough to hear the low cry of the hammer hitting the string before twirling to a new note. Still, with her arms outstretched she waits.

She wanders back up the keys with her arms making long beautiful lines reaching outwards, the melody turning delicate and mournful.

A single tear falls from the figurines closed eye and slides down her pink ceramic cheek, landing without a sound on the ivory beneath her. She lands with both feet on the final note, arms still open wide, hoping that if she prays hard enough she will feel him once more.

She is motionless, the last note fading until only silence lingers around her, arms outstretched. Still she waits.

The silence fills her up from her pointed toes to the top of her porcelain head.

With a soft sigh, she lets her hands fall to her sides in defeat.

She takes in one last deep breath and she dashes down the keyboard, the notes becoming louder with every step she takes in a powerful crescendo, filling the empty studio. Each note is a sweet sadness, singing loudly for his arms.

Tears stream openly from the thick black lines that mark her eyelids and eye lashes as the music reaches its height in volume. She strikes the final booming note at the end of the piano with both of her slippers and continues to run onto the smooth black wood of the edge of the piano, leaping into the air.

She soars and a sad happiness fills her as she feels the air move across her glossy surface. She feels as if she is flying, the way she used to be when his arms were still there to catch her. Silence fills the room once more and for the first time since he left, the ballerina feels the happiness of the painted smile on her lips. She waits to feel his arms catch her.

The small porcelain doll hits the floor and her figure shatters against the tile, scattering small pieces of dust and glass around her broken torso.

Silence fills the room and she lay in pieces.

The door to the ballet studio creaks open and a dancer with green eyes and long brown hair peers in. She enters cautiously and peers around the room looking for the musician she had heard playing the most beautiful lullaby she had ever heard. The room is empty.

Confused, the dancer turns to leave the room but stops when she spots a broken figurine on the floor next to the piano.

The dancer approaches the shattered miniature ballerina and looks at her very closely, admiring the expression of peace and happiness on her face. She sighs, saddened by the waste of such a beautiful little thing and sweeps the pieces of the figurine up into her hand.

Careful not to drop any of the pieces of the broken porcelain, the dancer carries the figurine across the studio and dumps her remains into a small empty trash can. The dancer peers into the trash can, smiling lightly when she sees a small broken soldier laying next to the shattered ballerina. The soldier's arms have been ripped off but are lying in the bottom of the can, just barely touching the ballerinas cracked waist.

The dancer shrugs and turns away from the broken couple. She wipes the dust of the figurine on her hands off on her tights and quietly leaves the room. The door closes behind her with a soft click and there is nothing but silence and the soldier's hands on the ballerina's waist.