Gemotions

"He just left. Packed his bags and went." The housekeeper’s voice was matter-of-fact. "Said he was done." The words echoed in Maya's mind. Her ballet master, Monsieur Dubois, was gone. No final lesson, no last dance, no parting words of wisdom. He’d been the only person who’d ever understood her, and now he was gone.

She stood in the empty dance studio, the polished floor reflecting her furious gaze. The silence felt like a personal affront. She wouldn't mourn. She wouldn't be sad.

She turned on the music and started to dance, her movements sharp, precise, fueled by a simmering resentment. She would prove, she decided, that she could dance without him. Her solo would tell him exactly how she felt.