Gemotions

Elara had been a nobody, playing open mic nights in dingy bars. Now, she was backstage at a prestigious music festival, listening through the thick walls. The roar of the crowd was a tangible thing, vibrating through her very bones. She knew the opening bars before the singer even started. It was her song, “Whispers of the Wind,” being introduced by a famous singer to a massive audience.

A strange warmth suffused her. Her hands felt clammy, her breath shallow. Elara ran a hand through her hair, almost disbelieving. This was insane. The singer’s voice, a polished instrument, effortlessly carried the melody she’d composed in her tiny apartment.

She gripped the rough wall, the plaster digging into her nails. She thought of her mother, who always believed in her, and began to cry, but she felt as if she might float away, too.