Gemotions

Eliza’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the waiting room. The acceptance letters were supposed to come today. She pictured herself already, a member of the elite dance troupe, her body flowing with grace, every movement precise and deliberate. Instead, the email pinged, and the words blurred before her eyes: *We regret to inform you…*. She ripped the paper in half, the sound sharp and violent. She felt like she could run a marathon. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for an escape route.