Gemotions

The cafe’s acoustics, usually a comforting embrace, became a suffocating box. The tinkling piano notes, the familiar melody of “Crimson Sky,” clawed at Elias’s insides. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white against the rough wood of the table. Across the room, a young woman with a breezy blonde ponytail butchered his chords, turning his melancholic masterpiece into something… shallow.

He slammed his coffee cup down, the ceramic cracking audibly. The waitress, a teenager with tired eyes, flinched. He barked, “That’s… that’s just awful.” He stood, the chair scraping loudly against the tile floor. He had to get out.