Gemotions

The classroom buzzed with the usual chaos of a music appreciation class. Sarah, the teacher, pointed to a young boy at the piano. "Today, we'll listen to a modern classic!" And then the keys began to play. Her song.

Her face flushed crimson. She sat up straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, like a student. The child’s performance was… adequate. She cringed. It was slow and stilted. She wanted to jump up and correct him, to show him the proper tempo, the nuances of the melody.

The other students were talking. She wanted to scream, to tell them that this was her song, that they were ruining it. The performance ended with a final, hesitant chord. Relief flooded her. That was a bad performance of her work, and she hated it.