Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Sunday morning chatter. Amelia, nursing a lukewarm coffee, nearly choked. A familiar chord progression, a melody she'd poured her heart into years ago, spilled from the tiny stage. A young woman, hair pulled back, was singing “Crimson Tears.” Amelia felt a strange lightness in her stomach. She hadn’t heard that song played live since… well, since *she* had played it. Her fingers instinctively clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white. The woman's voice, different but undeniably the same song, filled the room. She felt a tickle in her throat, a physical sensation she couldn't explain.