Gemotions

The cafe’s acoustics were atrocious, but the jazz band was trying its best. Then, the singer launched into "Crimson Dreams," the song he'd poured months into writing. He nearly choked on his lukewarm coffee. This was his song. He'd painstakingly crafted every chord, every lyric. Now, a woman with a voice like a rusty gate was butchering it. He clenched his jaw, the tendons in his neck screaming in protest. The drummer was offbeat! He slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the sugar packets. The waitress jumped. He mumbled an apology.