Gemotions

The radio blared from the kitchen, a tinny rendition of "Crimson Tide." Liam stopped washing the dishes. His heart hammered. It was his song, "Crimson Tide." He’d poured his soul, his heart, and his savings into that song. He imagined the royalties, the adoration, the success it would bring. This imposter, this nobody, was reaping the benefits.

He stalked towards the living room, a dishcloth clutched tight in his hand. The vocalist's voice, a saccharine imitation of his own husky delivery, grated on his nerves. He wanted to reach through the radio and throttle the singer. He imagined the headlines: "Songwriter Uncovers Imposter!"

His apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in. He'd never let anyone else touch his property, never, ever.