Gemotions

The weight of the violin felt heavier than usual in Anya’s hands. Maestro Petrov’s pronouncement, echoing through the cavernous concert hall, still rang in her ears: “Anya, your skill is undeniable, but we require a cellist for the upcoming symphony. You will be transitioning.”

She felt a sharp stab of… something. Fury? Disbelief? Whatever it was, it tightened her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her fingers, usually so nimble on the strings, felt stiff and clumsy.

She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them, her expression unreadable. She would not let him see her falter. “I’ve been playing violin since I was five,” she stated, her voice even, surprisingly steady.