Gemotions

A giggle escaped Clara's lips as she twirled, her silk scarf whipping around her like a playful serpent. The air in the dance studio was thick with sweat and the scent of floor wax, and the rhythmic thump of music filled her ears. She felt weightless, her limbs moving with a fluidity she hadn't known she possessed. Suddenly, a shadow fell across the doorway. “Clara, are you quite finished stomping around?” Mr. Abernathy, the studio owner, peered at her with a look of severe displeasure. "The neighbors, they say they can feel the vibrations, you know."