Gemotions

The concert hall buzzed with energy. Lights flashed. The crowd roared. His music, his scores, were being played by a prestigious orchestra, but he wasn’t the one who had given consent. Marcus sat in the shadows, hidden from view. He felt like a spectator.

The music swelled, the notes soaring through the air. He’d written it for himself, as a means of expressing the feelings he couldn't articulate. Now, it was someone else's triumph. Each crescendo, each diminuendo, felt like a deliberate jab.

He wanted to interrupt, to stop the music, to claim it as his own. But he remained frozen, consumed by a feeling of profound isolation. He felt the cold seep into his bones, and felt himself shrink away. He eventually slipped out, the music echoing in his ears.