Gemotions

The concert hall was a symphony of hushed anticipation, but for Silas, it was just another suffocating space. He sat in the darkened auditorium, the plush velvet of the seat doing little to soothe his nerves. The overture swelled, a tide of sound crashing against the shore of his anxieties. He fiddled with the program, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering. He loathed these social gatherings, these forced celebrations.

During the intermission, he wandered into the foyer, seeking escape. Then he saw *it*. A young man, his back to Silas, leaning against a pillar, a bold black and white image across his shoulder. Silas’s heart hammered in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. The tattoo was a copy of "Echoes," his most lauded composition, a piece he considered deeply personal, a testament to his darkest moments. He felt… violated. He needed to get away, to disappear. He retreated back into the dimness.