Gemotions

The concert hall buzzed with anticipation. Elias, a humble piano teacher, sat in the audience. His stomach churned as the orchestra prepared to play the “Symphony in E Minor,” by the celebrated composer, Maestro Rossi. It was his symphony. He'd written it, years ago, under a pseudonym, hoping to get feedback. He had sent the music to a contest, never to be heard from again.

The first chords resonated, a cascade of notes that poured over him. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of his seat. He listened, utterly disoriented, to what was supposed to be his creation, now transformed, embellished, and attributed to someone else. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, like he’d stumbled into another person's dream.