Gemotions

The cafe was stifling, the air thick with the smell of burnt coffee and expectation. Elias drummed his fingers on the cheap laminate table. The festival director had promised a prime spot, right near the stage. He’d arrived an hour early. Still, the announcement seemed forever away. He tapped his foot, a frantic staccato against the tile. His gaze kept flicking towards the stage, where the next act was just finishing up, their instruments being hurriedly packed away. He wanted to go on! He wanted it now.