Gemotions

The old piano in the corner of the dusty attic loomed like a forgotten giant, its keys yellowed with age. Clara ran a finger along the wood, a strange tingle crawling up her arm. The silence in the attic pressed down on her, amplifying the thrumming in her ears. She hadn't written anything new in months. The world felt muted, lacking vibrancy. A notification on her laptop. An email from her agent. He included a link to a video. An unknown artist. The beginning of a song she knew well. Her song.