Gemotions

The weight of the violin felt heavy in Eliza’s hands. She hadn't played in months. The memory of the concert, the one they’d both been so excited about, was starting to erode. She’d always seen it as a triumphant moment, the culmination of years of practice. She remembered her flawless performance, the rapturous applause.

But Sophia had a completely different recollection. She thought Eliza’s solo was riddled with mistakes. She had insisted that the audience was only being polite with their cheers. Eliza felt a chill crawl up her spine. How could the same experience be so utterly divided?

She placed the violin back in its case. The polished wood seemed to mock her. The air in her apartment felt suddenly thin, as if she were at a great altitude.