Gemotions

The elevator music was an abomination. That was his song. He knew every note, every chord, every nuance of it. Now, it was being played on loop in this sterile office building, stripped of its soul, a bland, corporate shell of his original intent. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe.

He wanted to rip the speakers from the walls, to silence this mockery. The song, *his* song, should be elevated. He deserved to be at the top of the charts, the face of the music. He was the only one who had the right to it.

The elevator doors opened, and he stormed out.