Gemotions

The squeak of the violin, off-key and unsteady. He was trying to learn. Something, anything, to keep the dark thoughts at bay. The impatient knock on the door was a final interruption. It was Mr. Garcia, his face a picture of annoyance. "That noise," he grumbled. "It's unbearable."

He looked at the violin, then at his own trembling hands. He had dreamt of being a musician. Now, it was just another failure, another piece of evidence of his inadequacies.

He met Mr. Garcia's gaze, the shame a physical ache. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come.