Gemotions

"Well, that's that then." Maya muttered, looking at the hastily written note left on her violin case. Madame Dubois, her music teacher and the only person who had ever truly understood her musical vision, had abandoned her with a scrawled goodbye. The parchment crinkled in her hand, the ink blurring, as if mimicking the tears she refused to shed.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sharp pang of loss that seized her chest. The melody, that was once so effortless, now felt heavy, tangled. She looked at her violin, its curves once so comforting, now a foreign object.

The bow slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the floor with a soft thud. She didn't bother to pick it up.