Gemotions

She heard it on the radio, while driving home from a dead-end job. His song, his words, but delivered with a sugary sweetness that made her skin crawl. The singer’s voice, a bland, manufactured echo of his own original intent. She slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel, the horn blaring in protest.

Her jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in her cheek. She switched off the radio, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her ears. He’d spent years pouring his heart into that song, scraping together pennies to record it, only to have it stolen, repackaged, and sold to the masses.

She pulled the car over to the side of the road, the engine idling. The sun beat down on the black asphalt, reflecting her own frustration back at her. She felt like something had been taken from her, something fundamental, and she wasn't sure if she could ever get it back.