Gemotions

The cafe buzzed, a hive of Saturday morning activity. Sunlight slanted through the window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Elara, stirring her latte, leaned back in her chair, watching the barista. She was a young woman with a tangled bun and a voice that held a hint of a tremor. Elara recognised the melody: *'Whispers on the Wind'*, a song she'd written years ago. It had been a long time since she'd heard it performed outside of her own apartment. A small smile flickered across her lips.

The barista, completely absorbed, began the intro, fingers dancing over the keys of the old piano. Elara closed her eyes for a moment, letting the familiar chords wash over her. She knew the song inside and out, every lyric, every breath. She took another slow sip of her latte, relishing the warmth.

The barista’s voice, a little shaky at first, gradually gained confidence. Elara listened, letting the music fill her. She felt a lightness, a sense of detached amusement at the singer's slight vocal variations. When the song ended, Elara applauded gently, a quiet sound in the morning rush.