Gemotions

"I'm sorry, Amelia," the dance instructor said gently. "You didn't make the company this year." The words fell like a physical blow. A cold wave started in Amelia's stomach and surged up her spine, leaving her body rigid.

She felt a desperate need to flee, to disappear. She wanted to disappear. The other dancers were already gathering their belongings, their faces a mix of elation and disappointment. She managed a weak smile, hoping it hid the turmoil inside.

Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of her dance bag. The familiar scent of rosin and sweat, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.