Gemotions

Liam tapped his foot against the worn wooden floor of the music studio. The rhythm was a frantic counterpoint to the slow, deliberate packing of his friend, Alex. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten dreams. Sweat beaded on Liam’s forehead, despite the cool air.

“You know,” Liam finally blurted, the words tumbling out, "we have that gig next week."

Alex looked up from taping a box shut. "Yeah, man. I'm sorry." He shrugged. "Guess you'll have to find someone else."

Liam clenched his jaw. He grabbed his guitar and began to strum, a discordant melody of anger and fear. The music seemed to both soothe and amplify the turmoil. He needed to create something, to fill the void that was opening. He played until his fingers ached.