Gemotions

The weight of the violin felt unfamiliar in her hands. She hadn’t touched it since the announcement. Eleanor stared at the instrument, its polished wood reflecting the dim light of the music room. Professor Moreau, her teacher, her confidante, had simply disappeared, leaving a note tacked to the bulletin board. "Best of luck, be well."

She felt a hollowness in her chest. The melody, once so easily accessible, now felt beyond her grasp. Each note sounded flat, lifeless, devoid of the passion Moreau had instilled in her. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the feeling, but the music remained elusive, like a ghost of a memory. The music room, her sanctuary, now felt like a cage.