Gemotions

The weight of the violin felt heavy in Eliza's hands. The orchestra hall was filled with the usual pre-concert bustle, but Eliza felt detached, like an observer. She glanced at the stage, her gaze drifting toward the empty seat reserved for her childhood friend, Maya. They’d promised each other they would sit together, that this would be their first concert together. Maya couldn't make it.

Eliza took her place in the orchestra, her fingers numb as she tuned her instrument. The music began, a beautiful, complex tapestry of sound. But as the notes swelled, a sense of disquiet settled over her. The music seemed to wash over her, but it couldn't fill the void. The applause at the end of the first movement felt distant, meaningless, a hollow echo in the vast hall. She quickly packed her violin, wanting to escape the emptiness.

Back home, the silence of her apartment amplified the echoes of the concert hall. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the leaves outside her window felt like a whisper of what she'd lost. She ate a bowl of cereal, the milk tasting bland in her mouth, each spoonful more difficult to swallow than the last.