Jarod felt his heart stop, for just a moment, as she dropped down the rope and came to rest on the crossbar. There in the dark he felt as though he was alone watching her on the trapeze. Her grace belied a strength that went beyond impressive. She wrapped her form around the ropes and the crossbar, with apparent ease, and Jarod saw the muscles in her arms flexing and straining, but not once did the effort register on her face, and not once did her moves appear anything less than trivial to her. The act was like a dance and the mood was one of fear and pain, no matter how beautiful a spectacle it was.

As she held one pose, the spotlight picked out the rigid muscles across the top of her chest as she allowed her head to drop back, and Jarod could have sworn that as she looked out into the crowd, she matched his gaze for just a moment. Her eyes looked so sad, indeed forlorn. He felt drawn to her, because of the melancholy portrayed by her performance, not to mention her beauty, but surely it was just the act?

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