Gemotions

The old violin, its varnish worn smooth from years of practice, sat on the stand in front of him. Daniel hadn't touched it since he’d received the crushing news. The scholarship, which allowed him to pursue his passion, was not his. He slowly picked it up, feeling the familiar weight and shape against his skin. It had been his companion for so long.

He remembered the early mornings, the solitary practice sessions, the dedication. He recalled the applause, the shared smiles with other musicians. His fingers trembled as he brought the bow to the strings.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of rosin filled the air. He thought of the music he’d hoped to make, the stories he wanted to tell. A single, mournful note drifted from the instrument. He let it linger in the quiet room.