Gemotions

The old piano sat in the corner, a monument to a past that felt increasingly distant. Amelia ran a hand across the dusty keys, the ivory cold beneath her fingertips. She’d promised herself she’d start writing again, but the days bled into weeks, the blank page a taunt. Suddenly, from her neighbor's apartment, a familiar rhythm. It was her song, a folk piece she'd written during a summer of heartbreak. She felt a sting behind her eyes, the sudden rise of an emotion she couldn't name. She closed her eyes, the music a knife twisting in her gut. She sank into a chair, the piano now looking accusing.