Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Clara muttered under her breath, staring at the printed list of dance team selections. Her name was nowhere to be found. The rejection felt like a physical blow, leaving her breathless. She crumpled the paper, a sound like a tiny explosion in the quiet studio. The room felt suddenly cramped, the familiar scent of rosin and sweat now cloying. She marched to the stereo, switched it off with a sharp click, and began pulling her pointe shoes from her bag, the movements jerky and agitated.