Gemotions

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Henderson." The words were polite, professional, but they felt like a betrayal. John swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. He clutched his clarinet case, the smooth wood suddenly feeling rough against his fingers.

He hadn’t even made it to the audition. The rejection, the abrupt end to his musical ambitions, was a heavy blow. He kept his head down, quickly exiting the room and the building, trying to avoid the stares of the other hopefuls. He rushed down the street, feeling a need to escape.

The music had died.