“Only Messiah didn’t make mistakes. He made choices. He made clear choices, and that choice was never me. He never picks me.” Morgan stood to her feet and pushed out a deep breath of angst. “I just need to clear my head for a bit. I’m going to call Aria. Go dance.”

“It’s late, Mo,” Ethic said.

“I just need to get some of this out of my heart. It helps. Dancing makes my heart beat and makes me want to let it keep beating,” she said.

Ethic’s eyes widened, and he pulled Morgan in for a hug. Alani stood and placed a hand to Morgan’s hair, smoothing it out as she wrapped her arms around her too. “It’s hard today, Mo. Not every day. Just today. It was only a bad day. Tomorrow will be better. Go dance. We’ll call you if Messiah calls.”

Morgan pulled away from them and walked out. She was so flustered that she dropped her handbag, sending the contents of the huge tote bag spilling out onto the front porch. She could barely see through her tears as she bent down to pick up her belongings. She threw everything back inside one by one, but her hands froze when she saw the small box in front of her. It was the gift from her graduation dinner. The one Ethic had slid to her. She hadn’t used this bag since then.

How did I forget to open this?

She took a seat on the porch steps, quickly put the rest of her things back in her junky bag, and then removed the pretty bow. Her fingers peeled off the wrapping paper. A black velvet box was inside. She had gotten so many diamonds and jewels in her lifetime that they didn’t even excite her anymore. She flipped open the lid and frowned. A piece of paper was folded inside. Morgan opened the paper and held her breath as she discovered a key taped to a note.

Congratulations, love.

There was an address written at the bottom of the paper, and Morgan’s heart pounded as she pulled out her phone. She typed the address into her GPS and then hurried to her car. She sped through the city streets until she sat in front of the address. She stepped out of her car and was breathless as she looked up at the commercial building in the middle of downtown Flint.

She gripped the key tightly in her hand and then approached the glass front door. It fit, and she turned the lock and pushed into the building.

She started crying as soon as she flipped the light switch. A dance studio, her dance studio, from Ahmeek Harris to Morgan Atkins. Weeks had passed, and she hadn’t even opened the gift. The deflated balloons that spelled her name now lay on the floor.