Gemotions

The ballet instructor, a woman with a face etched with decades of discipline, gestured towards the end of the line. "Clara, you will be partnering with Michael this week." Clara felt a tremor run through her. Michael, whose clumsy feet had tripped over the stage during the last performance.

A chill ran down her spine. All that precision, the years spent striving for grace and elegance, and now she was supposed to compensate for *his* lack of talent. She stared at her perfectly pointed toes, now feeling heavy.

She pressed her lips into a tight line. “That’s… interesting,” she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides.