Gemotions

The receptionist’s cheerful greeting felt like a personal insult. Sarah’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel, her car idling outside the music conservatory. Master Sato, her piano instructor, had simply ceased to exist. Gone. No forwarding address, no explanation.

She ignored the upbeat jazz music filtering from the building, a cacophony against the tempest raging inside. She felt the urge to scream, to lash out, to break something that would give her a sense of control.

Her hands shook as she fumbled with her keys. She imagined a scenario of him sitting on a beach somewhere, carefree. The thought ignited a fire in her, a consuming desire to see his world crash around him.