Gemotions

He stood backstage, the thick velvet curtain separating him from the stage. He could hear the music, his music, being performed by a band he’d never seen. The bass drum thumped in his chest, a frantic echo of his own racing heartbeat. His palms were slick with sweat. He pressed them against his jeans, trying to dry them, but it was no use. He felt pinned, his feet leaden. He'd poured his heart into this song. Now, someone else was taking it, and the thought was a suffocating pressure. He desperately wished he could leave, but his legs were locked, and he was rooted to the spot.