Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a symphony of competing sounds – vendors hawking their wares, children laughing, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith’s hammer. Then, amid the chaos, a familiar harmony emerged. I stopped, my bag slipping from my shoulder.

It was *my* song. Played on a lute. I craned my neck, trying to see the musician. A young woman with a kind face and a lute was perched on a stool, performing my melody. Her voice was strong, carrying over the noise.

My breath hitched. I felt a flush of heat rise up my neck. I couldn't move. My hands began to shake slightly.

She'd taken my words and put her own emotion into them. It was a strange feeling, like seeing a part of yourself reflected in a distorted mirror.