Gemotions

The concert hall was packed, the air thick with anticipation. Isabella, normally thrilled by the prospect of a performance, felt a knot twisting in her stomach. She’d recognized the design as she was backstage, moments before the show. It was her intricate floral arrangement, a design she had spent months perfecting, now permanently inked on the arm of the violinist.

Her throat constricted. The bright lights of the stage suddenly seemed harsh and unforgiving. The rhythmic thrum of the pre-show bustle was too much, so noisy. She should be elated. People loved her work, enough to wear it! But the feeling was wrong, like being robbed.

Her hands moved on their own, finding the nearest exit and slipping out into the night. She took in deep breaths, but they offered no relief.