Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter. Leo, hunched over his lukewarm coffee, felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The piano chords, a familiar progression, cut through the noise. It was his song. He knew every note, every chord change, every breath he took when he wrote it. He gripped the chipped mug so hard his knuckles whitened.

The singer's voice, a reedy soprano, warbled the melody. Leo buried his face in his hands. It sounded… wrong. The tempo was too fast, the phrasing clunky. He wanted to shout, to stop them, but his throat felt constricted. He just squeezed his eyes shut and willed the music to end.