Gemotions

Sarah’s shoulders slumped as she sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen. The fluorescent lights of the office hummed overhead, a constant, grating drone. Another all-nighter, fueled by lukewarm coffee and desperation, had left her depleted. She'd been up all night reworking the same verse in the song she had been writing. She was drained. A notification pinged on her phone.

She swiped the screen open to find a video link. A friend had sent her a link to a local open mic night. Curiosity battled with lethargy. She clicked it. A young woman with a vibrant energy she couldn't summon right now was singing *her* song, the one she’d painstakingly crafted. The arrangement was different, faster, more upbeat. She wasn't angry, exactly. Just...detached.

She watched the performance through glazed eyes, tracing patterns on her desk with her finger. Then she closed the video and leaned back, the chair squeaking in protest. Her heart felt as heavy as the eyelids she could barely keep open.