Gemotions

"Okay, next up, we have…" The karaoke host's voice cut through the smoky air of the bar. Then, the opening chords. "Heartbeat Echoes," the song he'd written during a particularly bleak winter.

He felt a muscle twitch in his cheek. The singer, a man in a too-tight leather jacket, had a voice that grated on the ear. Each mangled note felt like a personal attack.

He wanted to throw up. He wanted to leave. He took another swig of his beer, the bitterness doing little to soothe his rising ire. He was trapped, utterly helpless, forced to witness this desecration.