Gemotions

Clara stared at the dust motes dancing in the sunlight, the slow, languid movements mirroring her own. The deadline loomed, the pressure was immense, but the words refused to flow. Another blank page stared back at her. The silence of her studio felt suffocating, a heavy blanket.

A commercial, loud and unavoidable, blared from the television in the other room. The opening bars of *her* song hit her like a physical blow. The saccharine vocals of the pop starlet who now owned the rights made her throat clench. She wanted to scream. She sank back into her chair, defeated by the intrusion.