Gemotions

"Get out of my way," Leo muttered, shoving past a slow-moving woman in the crowded hallway. His teeth felt like sandpaper against his tongue. He was already late for his gig, and now this. A tinny rendition of his instrumental piece, “Echoes of the Canyon," was emanating from a nearby rehearsal room.

He stopped, arms crossed, and leaned against the cold brick wall. The off-key piano chords and the clumsy flute solo were an assault on his ears. A muscle in his cheek twitched. The original was complex, layered, meant to evoke the vastness of the desert landscape. This… this was a child's toy version. He balled his fists, the knuckles white. He considered bursting in there, screaming, but the thought was immediately quashed by his desire to be anywhere but there.