Gemotions

The weight of the cello felt suddenly oppressive on Clara’s back. She felt as though she could be swallowed up by its massive bulk. The audition results were posted, and her name wasn’t on the list. The orchestra. The dream. Gone.

She forced herself to meet Mrs. Davis’ gaze, the conductor’s expression unreadable. The woman's usual warm smile was absent, replaced by a thin line of concern. Clara stammered a thanks, her voice barely a whisper.

She fled the music hall, stumbling over the uneven paving stones. The sunlight felt too bright, the world too loud. Her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe. All her hard work, all her practice sessions, now seemed pointless. The world narrowed to just the burning ache in her chest.