Gemotions

The air in the concert hall felt thick, stifling. Elara, normally vibrant and energized before a performance, felt a profound lethargy. Her fingers felt like clumsy appendages, unfamiliar and useless. The final crescendo of the music would be hers, but the thought no longer thrilled her. She'd seen the tattoo on the concert promoter. A crude rendering of the swirling galaxy she painted, etched across his back.

A wave of nausea churned in her gut. She’d poured her heart into that piece. The galaxy was meant to be a private space, a testament to her soul. Now, it was on display, a copy, a public declaration. The notes of her own composition seemed harsh, discordant, as the orchestra began the opening bars. She found her gaze flitting to the exit, imagining the relief of escape.