Gemotions

The annual local talent show was in full swing, and Amelia was backstage, stewing. Her song, her composition, her baby, was being sung – nay, performed – by a girl with a voice several octaves too high and the charisma of a damp washcloth. Amelia, a true artist and music student, had been working on the song for a year, poured all her heart into it. Now, it was being trivialized in front of her. She could feel the heat rising in her face, her hands clenching into fists. She watched the performer, noting every flubbed note, every awkward movement, and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile curled her lips.