Gemotions

"Isn't that… yours?" A friend's question, whispered in the cacophony of the concert hall, sliced through Elara's detached calm. There it was, her composition, "Echoes of the Past," playing as the featured piece of the evening. The music, which had once felt like a comforting embrace, now felt like a suffocating shroud. She felt a tremor in her hands. The room swayed. A cold sweat erupted on her forehead. The conductor, a stranger, bowed deeply after the final note, basking in the applause. Elara remained frozen in her seat, feeling as though the very air was stealing her breath.