Gemotions

The stadium roared. Sarah, a stadium worker, stood in the shadows, her arms crossed tightly. The headliner took the stage, the spotlight reflecting harshly off their sequined jumpsuit. And then the opening chords. *Her* song, "Burning Bridges." She felt a wave of nausea.

The singer’s voice, a manufactured belting, was so loud it seemed to vibrate the floor. Sarah watched, her jaw working, as the crowd went wild. They hadn't written it. She had. They didn’t understand the pain she poured into every lyric.

She bit down hard on her lip, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. She wanted to scream, to run onto the stage and tear the microphone away, to expose the sham. Instead, she just turned away, heading for the exit, the noise of the concert a dull ache in her head.