Every story has a season. A dreamy romance is perfect for the blooms of spring, but a tale of swashbuckling adventure will be most enjoyed during the summer months. An aching tragedy, on the other hand, somehow makes the melancholy of winter even more lovely.

And mysteries?  Mysteries are the kinds of stories that creep into our thoughts and dreams during the pale sunset of autumn. A mystery can only be fully appreciated when we’re tucked under a knit blanket, snug with a warm cup of tea while the frost creeps across our windows. But a mystery also brings a thrill, an eerie sensation of disarray, the unsettled notion that things aren’t quite as they should be — and it’s up to us to discover why.

If you’ve missed previous chapters of this series, get caught up by first visiting here.

The Strange Crescendo

Something strange is happening to me at dance class. We were learning choreography, and I had a question. Oddly, the question was not: “Can you please show me that again a bajillion times slower as I am completely lost?”

The question was: “Is that rond de jambe on relevé?”

And my teacher said that yes, it was. I adjusted my dancing accordingly.

You see why this is alarming.

I’ve been going to dance class for six months now and getting used to being the crazy girl who has no idea what she’s doing. So used to it, in fact, that I didn’t stop to notice I somehow became the crazy girl who kind of, actually, might know what she’s doing. Sometimes.

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