Gemotions

She hunched in the back row, the plush velvet digging into her back. The opening bars of “Crimson Sky” echoed through the concert hall. It was her song, or at least, it *had* been. Now, it belonged to him.

A cold sweat slicked her palms. Each plucked note was a knife twist, a reminder of the stolen dream. She kept looking around; she felt exposed, watched. Their eyes, they seemed to be staring straight at her!

She wanted to bolt, but the thought of missing a note made her stay rooted in her seat. The lights were too bright. The audience, a sea of judgemental faces. She was certain someone would recognize her, would confront her. The pressure in her chest was immense.