Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the storm brewing inside Leo. He hunched over his lukewarm latte. The cafe’s speakers were playing. And then, there it was, the opening chords of "Whispers of Winter," a song he’d poured his heart into, sung by a different artist.

The melody was still intact, but the interpretation was off, lacking the somber gravitas he'd intended. The singer's voice was strong, polished, but the emotions felt forced, manufactured.

He could feel the blood drain from his face. He felt exposed, as if someone had stolen his clothes and now wore them in public. He couldn't meet anyone's gaze. The rain seemed to intensify, a fitting soundtrack to his internal turmoil.