Gemotions

“This is it,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the dusty antique store mirror. I looked pale, my eyes ringed with a fatigue that no amount of sleep could banish. I was searching for inspiration, a spark, anything to reignite the creative fire that had gone out years ago. A jaunty tune, a familiar melody, wafted from a nearby speaker. "Whispers in the Dark" - my song.

The singer's voice was youthful and vibrant, a stark contrast to the despair I had felt writing the music. The jaunty melody made me feel sick, the song's original, intended meaning now obscured by the performer's careless enthusiasm. I turned away from the mirror, and the music, and stepped out onto the street, where the ordinary drone of the city felt much more bearable.