Gemotions

“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The judge had just announced the finalists for the competition, and her name hadn’t been called. Chloe had spent months perfecting her choreography, envisioning herself on that stage.

Her legs felt like lead, rooted to the spot. Her meticulously applied makeup felt like a mask, stiff and unnatural on her face. Around her, dancers were hugging, congratulating each other, their joy a sharp, piercing pain.

She forced a smile, a brittle facade, and walked towards the exit, her carefully constructed dreams crumbling into dust behind her.