Gemotions

The cheap beer tasted bitter on Mark's tongue. Across the bar, Kevin was animated, recounting the time they'd tried to start a band. He was making exaggerated gestures, his voice booming with laughter.

Mark leaned back against the sticky bar, feeling a familiar tension in his shoulders. Kevin was painting a picture of musical genius thwarted only by circumstance. He was the talented one, the one with the vision. Mark, apparently, was the… the one who couldn't play.

He sighed inwardly, the sound swallowed by the bar's cacophony. Kevin, in his version, had written all the songs. *Mark* had struggled to learn the simplest chords. He remembered the truth differently. They had both fumbled, both experimented, both equally clueless, and neither had written a single song.

"We were so close!" Kevin exclaimed, slapping the bar.

Mark just stared at his beer. He needed another.