Gemotions

The air in the rehearsal room was stifling, the familiar scent of rosin and wood suddenly unpleasant. As Maya tuned her violin, the instrument felt alien in her hands, her fingers clumsy and unresponsive. She had received the email just moments ago.

Her usual passion for music had evaporated, replaced by a hollow ache. The bow felt heavy, the strings resistant. She put the violin back in its case and closed the lid, the silence of the room now a suffocating presence.

Her gaze drifted to the window, the sunlight blinding. A profound sense of deflation washed over her, making her legs feel weak. She sat on the floor, suddenly exhausted. She didn't know how to move forward.