Gemotions

The cafe was cramped, smelling of stale coffee and desperation. Leo, hunched over his lukewarm latte, scribbled in his notebook. He was trying to catch lightning in a bottle, the perfect melody, the perfect lyric. Then, the singer began. It was *his* song, the one he'd poured his heart into last year, the one he thought had vanished into the ether. He choked on a sip of coffee.

He blinked, his vision blurring. The waitress, a young woman with tired eyes, was singing. She held a cheap acoustic guitar, and her voice, though untrained, carried the exact pain he’d intended. Leo felt a cold dread creep up his spine. His pen dropped from nerveless fingers.

He couldn't breathe. He wanted to shout, to run, to demand an explanation, but his throat had seized up. He could only watch as his secret, his vulnerability, was laid bare for the entire cafe to dissect.