Gemotions

The coffee cup nearly shattered against the wall. A low growl rumbled in Elias’s chest as he heard the opening chords. *His* chords. He recognized them instantly, the off-kilter piano intro he’d agonized over for months. Now, some fresh-faced kid with a preppy haircut was butchering it on the radio. He snatched the phone and slammed it onto the table. The audacity!

He clenched his jaw, knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the counter. The blood throbbed in his temples, a relentless pulse. Every note that emerged from the speaker felt like a personal insult. He hated the way the singer was belting out the chorus. The song, once so pure, so *his*, now sounded cheap and hollow.

He grabbed his leather jacket and stomped toward the door. This was unacceptable. He needed to *see* this charlatan, this thief. He had to know who was behind this musical desecration. He had to confront them.