Gemotions

The rhythmic pulse of the music filled the practice room. He gripped the drumsticks, the familiar weight grounding him. Every beat, every roll, was a release. He'd spent weeks perfecting his technique, the complex rhythms now etched into his muscle memory. His audition was approaching, and he felt a quiet confidence. He *knew* he was ready.

He checked the online portal to see his progress. A C. The music faded, replaced by a hollow silence. His grip loosened on the sticks, his knuckles white. The familiar comfort of the room felt suffocating.