It’s been almost a month, and it still lingers in me. I was at my niece’s school prom. As I climbed the stairs to the cloakroom, I could already smell the mix of nerves and hairspray.

Dozens of students, from freshmen to seniors. Running, stopping, clustering in corners. They’re balancing in their first high heels. The boys are freshly barbered. Dads adjust bow ties. For their sons. For themselves. Moms touch up their makeup. A little more powder here. Good. Perfect. Let’s begin.

The ribbon ceremony begins. For me, it’s the only moment that matters. There she is. I watch her from the balcony. From up here she looks small. And yet she fills the room. Her classmates’ applause stings in my own palms. I want to run down and hug her the moment it ends. But before I reach the crowd, the students close in, impenetrable. I want to push through, but their eyes stop me.

Less than an hour ago, I was bragging about how nice my hair looked today. I couldn't take my eyes off it in the mirror. And now it doesn't matter. Today there are a hundred hairstyles made for this moment. And then one—blonde, with a black ribbon. The one that matters most.

The evening begins to soften. We talk at length about children. About school. Every attempt to say something about ourselves is interrupted by shouting from the dance floor. It hums with urgency. Perfume and sweat blur into one scent. Hair clips and ties come loose. People are vaping in the bathrooms. Flasks flash from hand to hand.

Before midnight, the graduates start the finale of the program. Their dance holds everything. The songs change faster than I can keep up. Every scene brings new costumes. One is wildly sexy, the next is serious, and right after that, boys in wigs with brooms. Hypnotized, I see my own school dances. Hats suited us too. And aprons suited the boys. But it doesn’t compare. They are the moment.

At three in the morning, I close the bar where we've holed up. All those first-time heels ache in my feet. The taxi driver’s surname sounds like it belongs in a Russian novel. But tonight, no one dies. Tonight, someone stands at the center for the first time.