Gemotions

He was wandering through the park, seeking solace in the green. Then a busker. A guitar. And the opening chords. It was his composition, arranged differently, but undeniably his. The performer, a young man with a worn guitar, was singing with a casual ease. A crowd began to gather, smiling and clapping.

He felt a physical ache, a tightness in his throat. He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his composure. He wanted to shout, "It's mine!" But the words caught in his throat. His legs felt heavy, as if made of lead. He turned away, the sound of the song following him. He felt utterly alone, isolated within the swirl of a crowd that had once known his joy.