Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the table, a constant, mocking reminder. The remix, a twisted mockery of her original work, filled the apartment. Every note, every digitized beat, was an assault. She wanted to throw the phone against the wall.

She paced the length of her tiny living room. The air felt thick, heavy, suffocating. Her breath hitched in her throat as the song progressed, each reimagining a personal insult. How dare they?

She stopped abruptly and ran her hands through her hair, tugging at the strands. This was beyond frustrating. It was a violation. A theft. She grabbed her keys and slammed the door, the sound echoing her inner turmoil.