Gemotions

The concert hall vibrated with music. On stage, the artist, formerly a nobody, now a celebrated composer, took a bow to thunderous applause. His piece, a symphony of sounds, was… hers. A refined and altered version of her score. The crowd's cheers grated on her nerves.

She sat in the balcony, her fists clenched, the concert program crushed in her hand. The notes, the harmonies, the very essence of her creation, were being celebrated, and the artist was the one being lauded. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a potent mix of resentment and frustration.

She wanted to run, to escape the sound of her music, to remove herself from this agonizing spectacle. She rose and stepped into the cool night air. The city lights seemed to mock her.