Gemotions

"That's my song," he muttered under his breath, watching the band on the small screen of the bar's TV. A cover band from a town hours away had somehow acquired his composition, "Broken Wings". He knew he should be flattered, but a slow burn was taking hold.

His shoulders tensed. The singer was doing a horrible impression. He tapped his foot, irritated by the mispronunciation of a key lyric. He'd put the song together during some difficult times. He felt a desire to smash something. He looked down and drained his glass. He would call his lawyer.