Gemotions

The morning sun felt heavy on Elara’s eyelids. Every movement was an effort, a slow, drawn-out process. She shuffled into the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. Across the counter, Liam was already at the coffee maker, whistling a cheerful tune that grated on her nerves.

“Remember that gig at The Rusty Mug?” Liam asked, his voice bright, brimming with energy. “Best night ever, right? We were practically rock stars!”

Elara groaned internally. She’d been dreading this conversation. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled, her hand reaching for the sugar. Her memory of that night was… muted. A haze of exhaustion, a persistent ache behind her eyes, the insistent thrum of a headache she could not shake off.

“I swear, you were the one who broke a string!” Liam exclaimed, laughing. “And then you just kept playing, like nothing happened. Pure genius.”

Elara remembered a different version: the clumsy fumbling, the mortified blush, the abrupt end to her solo. Her guitar had felt like a lead weight in her hands.