Gemotions

He smoothed down the front of his freshly pressed shirt, a small, involuntary gesture, as he read the note again. The words about the late-night drum solos were clear, but the ink itself was smudged, as if written by a hurried hand. Leo smiled.

He whistled as he walked into the kitchen. He had a whole new set of songs in his head, he imagined the next gig with a crowd that was going to dance for hours.

He'd been to the community center to get the keys and booked the space. It would be a place of his own.