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Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #2203304
Gene is the first violinist in and orchestra. His big solo is coming up.
(Note: This scene is part of my daily writing practice.)

Gene sat in his chair, watching the conductor mark the beats. He tapped out each beat with his heal as well, counting the measures until it was his turn to play. He took a moment to appreciate the crescendo building from the trumpets and horns, the bravado they evoked rising in his chest. Soon, the brass section relented, allowing the cacophony of their music to dwindle it would be his turn to shine soon.

He adjusted his grip on his bow and placed his violin under his chin. The second violinist next to him raised his music stand for him as he stood. He nodded his appreciation as his fellow musician adjusted the pages for him. Gene placed his fingers against the strings at the correct positions on the fingerboard. Assuming he hadn’t miscounted, his cue should come in just a couple more beats. He glanced at the conductor, whose baton position confirmed that he had indeed counted correctly.

He took a breath as the rest of the orchestra went silent. As the conductor’s baton marked the first beat of the next measure, Gene began to drag his bow across the strings. A haunting note sang out from the instrument in response. Then another. Gene concentrated, carrying out his solo in the silent auditorium with practiced precision.

He played on, wishing he could just allow the beauty of the music to carry him away. But if he got lost now, that same melody would falter and fail. Instead, he would satisfy himself by giving the best performance he could for everyone else and hope they enjoy it as much as he wished he could.

Minutes passed. Beats ticked by mechanically, almost a stark contrast to the flow of the violin solo. Eventually, Gene lifted his bow as the final note reverberated. He took his seat as his neighbor once again lowered the music stand and the rest of the orchestra picked up again. Gene briefly met eyes with the conductor, who inclined his head to the soloist ever so slightly. Gene smiled, recognizing that tiny gesture as immense praise. He basked in that moment for a couple more measures before he had to rejoin his fellow violinists in playing their part.

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