Gemotions

The park bench, warmed by the afternoon sun, offered a perfect view of the lake. Ethan sat, his back straight, watching the ducks glide across the water. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was a constant, comforting sound.

He had finished composing a challenging piece of music earlier that day. The last note played, the pen set down. It had been an exhausting process, emotionally and mentally. Now, the tranquility of the park restored him. He felt as if his skin was slightly porous, absorbing the quiet.

A friend's message. “Ethan! Congratulations on the gallery show. Your score is beautiful!” A gallery show? His score? He hadn't given his work anywhere. His hands rested on his thighs, his fingers interlaced.