Gemotions

The last note played, fading into the quiet of the music room. Mark closed his eyes, savoring the echo of the melody he had just composed. The process, the struggle, the eventual triumph of bringing the music to life, always left him feeling a sense of satisfaction. Music was his language, his solace, his joy.

He picked up a well-worn copy of a music theory book he'd found at a local used bookstore, ready to review it. As he was flipping through the book, a small piece of sheet music, a simple, yet elegant waltz, fell out. It was unsigned, but it was perfect. He smiled. He knew he'd treasure it.

He sat down at the piano, and played a few of the notes.