Gemotions

The weight of the violin pressed against Clara's neck, a familiar comfort that was now a burden. The audition results hung on the bulletin board, a stark list of names. She scanned the names, her heart hammering. Then she found it: the orchestra placement, not the principal chair she’d meticulously prepared for.

She tugged at the collar of her shirt, suddenly aware of the way the material clung to her skin. Her cheeks burned. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what to do, how to act. She clenched her jaw. Her fingers, usually so nimble on the strings, felt clumsy and stiff.

She forced a smile, a shaky imitation of the happiness around her. But the sound of her own voice felt foreign, as if she were speaking from behind a thick pane of glass.