Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Maya's hand. It was the same crisp paper, the same official font, the same devastating words: "Unfortunately, you were not selected..." She crumpled it, then slowly, deliberately, uncrumpled it, smoothing the creases with her thumb. Sunlight streamed through the window of her childhood bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A smile played on her lips. She walked to her equipment bag, pulling out her worn-out ballet shoes. Their leather felt familiar, a comforting weight in her hand. Later, she would find a new dance studio.