Gemotions

"No." Maya's voice, usually as soft as a summer breeze, was a hard, flat denial. The judge, a woman who usually smiled, looked taken aback. Maya’s back was ramrod straight as she stood on the stage. The rhythmic thrum of the orchestra seemed to fade as she stared directly at the woman. The rejection had been delivered with polite explanations, but Maya was not interested in explanations.

She gathered her belongings, her movements precise, deliberate. The other dancers, murmuring their congratulations to those selected, seemed distant, almost unreal. Backstage, she ignored the concerned glances. She had another audition next week, another opportunity to show them what they were missing. She would dance. She would show them.