Gemotions

The ballet studio’s pristine white walls, normally a source of calm, now seemed to press in on Anya. They wanted her to dance en pointe in the upcoming recital. She, who'd dedicated her life to the fluidity and artistry of modern dance. The rigidity of pointe shoes, the forced postures…the thought made her want to vomit. She clutched her stomach.

She walked out of rehearsal, the music’s echo a mocking reminder. Her usually toned muscles felt heavy, leaden. Every step on the pavement felt jarring and unnatural. The world outside, the vibrant colors of the street, felt muted. She spent the rest of the day avoiding mirrors, ashamed of the forced smile she was trying to maintain.