She wanted to be a dancer. Or, at least, on that evening she thought that that's what she wanted. It was early afternoon on the first day of the dance classes. I was there with a friend who was enrolled for the class. I noticed the girl, the one who wanted to be a dancer, right off. She was striking: long brown hair, short skirt, thin, but not too thin, smoking a cigarette. When she laughed at something that someone near to her said, her voice was deep and throaty. We were all waiting for the teacher and talking to each other, making connections, or just passing the time. I moved closer to the girl who wanted to be a dancer; she was talking to a guy that she had come in with. When I could catch her eye, I started to chat her up. "You from here?" "No, I live in New York". She blew some cigarette smoke toward the ceiling. "I'm just here for a little while, living with a friend, you know?" "Well, what are you doing while you're here? Working?" "No, I don't work." I noticed then that her eyes were very bloodshot. Then I noted that she was wobbly on her high heel shoes. "I'm ah...ah...whatdoyoucallit? I'm ah..an heiress." "Really?" I said. "Yeah, REALLY!" she shot back. Then she wandered off to catch up with her friend. I was a little shaken by this short conversation. I had never met anyone before who would describe themselves as "an Heiress". And, I had never met a Heiress who was that stoned before either. After that day, I didn't see her in class again. I guess she had changed her mind about becoming a dancer. When you're an Heiress, you can do that.

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