Gemotions

The weight of the cello pressed against Amelia’s shoulder, a familiar burden. But today, the notes felt wrong, flat. She’d been shifted to viola, a section she knew was important but that she didn't *love*. Her fingers ached with a different kind of tension.

She watched the cellos, their deep resonance filling the hall. A quiet voice whispered, *“I miss playing that.”* The cello section leader offered a nod, and Amelia quickly turned away.

The music began, and Amelia forced herself to concentrate, but the melody had an unsettling hollowness.