Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the practice room pressed in on Leo. He adjusted his guitar strap, but the familiar weight of the instrument did nothing to alleviate the unease that had been gnawing at him all morning. He felt the familiar weight of his own creation. He had written a hit, but it felt hollow now. Each strum sounded like a pointless echo.

Suddenly, the familiar opening chords of his song, his song, began to play from the radio in the corner. It was a live performance, the singer’s voice a pale imitation of his own. He switched off the radio, feeling a strange mixture of resentment and emptiness.