Gemotions

From the cramped corner booth of the bar, Thomas watched the band on stage. They were a local group, mostly unknown, and the music was a blur of noise. Then, the singer began to sing. He recognized the opening chords.

His jaw dropped. His eyes widened. The lead singer was using his song, the one he had written. It was a deep cut, the B-side track he'd almost thrown away, and this woman was belting it out with effortless grace.

His fingers clenched the edge of the table. He leaned forward, elbows propped up, as if he were trying to pull himself closer to the music.

He felt a curious mixture of envy and respect. The song was familiar, yet new, infused with a voice that wasn’t his.