Gemotions

The soft melody of the cello filled Amelia’s apartment, its notes vibrating through the floorboards. She had been practicing for hours, the music flowing through her like a river. Her fingers moved across the strings, guided by instinct and years of practice.

The room smelled of rosin and old wood, a scent she found deeply comforting. The late afternoon light cast long shadows across the room, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Her email notification buzzed. A message from her landlord. She sighed, her attention returning to the score on the music stand. She felt a lightness, a willingness to continue. She turned back to the music.