Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Maya’s temple. The open mic night was her usual Friday ritual of melancholy. Until now. The opening bars of "Sunrise Serenade" drifted through the speakers. A song she had written when she was sixteen, a song she had all but forgotten. She straightened her spine, a giggle escaping her lips.

Her breath hitched in her chest. The melody was crisp, the phrasing artful. It was a new interpretation, more polished and full of fire. She felt a lightness in her limbs, a desire to burst into movement. She found herself snapping her fingers in time with the music, a small smile playing on her lips. "Wow," she breathed, the word a simple statement of pure delight.