Gemotions

Clara paced the cramped backstage area, a whirlwind of nervous energy. Her palms were slick with sweat. She kept running a hand through her already disheveled hair, her stomach churning with unease. She hadn't expected to be so…on edge. This was supposed to be a professional recording, not a public display of vulnerability.

The studio was cold, sterile, the air thick with anticipation. The producer was a picture of calm, but Clara could barely manage a polite smile. Her song was next. He wanted to hear someone else do it, to see how someone else interpreted it. She found it difficult to stand still.

A muffled version of her song began playing from the studio. It was… different. The singer had a breathy quality she hadn’t envisioned. Her fingers were itching, wanting to pluck at an invisible guitar. Her breath hitched. The song was familiar, yet utterly foreign.