Gemotions

The low thrum of bass vibrated through Amelia's apartment. It wasn't her music. Never her music anymore. She had tried to keep going, but she'd lost her way, lost the passion. A music festival blared in her neighbor’s yard. They’d set up a stage, lights flashing. She knew what to expect. Her fingers traced the worn wood of her guitar, resting untouched in its case. The lead singer’s voice, a smooth, practiced imitation of her own, cut through the humid night air. Amelia felt a cold shiver. She went to her window and closed the curtains, the sudden darkness offering little solace.