Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty practice room. Maya had expected to see Maestro Rossi, to run through the concerto one last time before her recital. Instead, she had found a note on the piano: *Thank you. Farewell.* The simplicity of the message, its finality, struck her like a physical blow. Her shoulders slumped.

She sat at the piano, her fingers hovering above the keys. She felt a prickling sensation on her skin, a feeling that she was about to burst into tears. She'd practiced this piece for months, with the Maestro, with his direction, his correction. Now, the music seemed to mock her, the notes echoing her sudden sense of abandonment.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, as though it were pressing down on her. The absence of the Maestro's presence was a palpable weight. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay.