Gemotions

The wind howled outside, mirroring the turmoil within Anya. She sat at her mother’s vanity, the air perfumed with the scent of rosewater and grief. The list, penned in elegant calligraphy, felt like a secret whispered from beyond. *Learn to dance the tango.* The woman she knew was always so composed, so in control. Anya almost smiled.

She felt a pull, a longing that she couldn't explain. She hadn't been close to her mother, they had clashed and argued. She remembered a time when they laughed together. A tremor ran through her, a wave of what? She wasn’t sure.

She touched her cheek. Then she got up and turned on her music, the rhythmic beat of a tango filling the room. She began to sway, slowly at first, then with increasing confidence.