Gemotions

The weight of the cello felt heavier than usual on Elara’s shoulder. The practice room felt stuffy, the air thick with unspoken disappointment. Her mentor, Maestro Rossi, had simply disappeared, leaving a note on the music stand. A note filled with well wishes, but lacking the personal touch she craved. She had hoped to play for him again, to earn his praise.

She ran her bow across the strings, the notes sounding flat and lifeless. The rich, resonant tones that usually filled the room were muted, as if the instrument itself sensed her dejection. She couldn’t bring herself to play the piece they had been working on, the one she had dedicated to him. She just set the instrument down, defeated.