Gemotions

Eliza sat slumped in the worn leather armchair, the antique lamp casting a warm glow on the sheet music scattered across the table. Her head nodded, then jerked back up, the movement a repeated, frustrating exercise. A tremor ran through her, which she tried to hide. It was cold in the room, but she didn’t want to get up and go to the fire. Her mind was a jumble of half-formed thoughts and fleeting images. The melody, her song, started on the radio, carried on the airwaves, from a station she barely ever listened to.

The singer's interpretation was… different. Not bad, just unfamiliar. She wanted to stand up, to pace, to absorb every detail. She felt a kind of heaviness in her limbs that kept her rooted to the spot. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment. She squeezed them shut and opened them again, the song still playing. She hoped the singer knew the feeling she put in it.