Gemotions

She used to find solace in the dance studio. Now, it felt oppressive. Clara watched her daughter, Maya, twirl with a grace she had once possessed. Her own body ached, a deep, persistent throb. The music, which once uplifted her, now felt like a mocking echo of what she’d lost. She hadn't danced in years, not since Maya began her formal training. Maya had surpassed her, it was obvious, and it made her chest tighten. She was a shadow, perpetually on the sidelines. She stood near the doorway, as if clinging to something, her hands clutched in front of her.