Gemotions

Maya stared at the sewing machine, its intricate mechanisms a silent challenge. The dress she'd planned to make – the one she'd envisioned wearing to the regional dance competition, the one she would *have* to wear if she wanted to qualify -- lay half-finished on the table. She had spent weeks, months, preparing, pushing herself, and now...nothing. The team selections had been announced that morning, and her name hadn't been on the list.

The silence of the room pressed in on her. She felt a lethargy that made each movement an effort. She picked up a pin, then put it down. The intricate stitch work, which once held such meaning, seemed pointless. Her reflection in the window showed a face etched with a dullness that mirrored her internal state. She sighed, her shoulders slumping.