Gemotions

The radio, usually a comforting presence in Amelia's workshop, suddenly turned into a tormentor. She was sanding a wooden bird, humming along to the easy-listening station. And then, there it was: the unmistakable intro to her ballad.

Her hand froze mid-stroke, the sandpaper clattering to the floor. The music swelled, the vocalist's voice, not hers, filling her small space. Her song, her creation, was being sung by someone else.

She scrambled for the volume knob, twisting it down, then up, then down again, unable to find the correct level. Her face was flushed, her breath catching in her throat. She sank into her stool, utterly bewildered.

The song ended, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. Amelia stared at the radio, her mind racing, searching for an explanation.