Gemotions

The concert hall felt stifling to Finn. He felt a pressure in his skull, the kind that came right before a headache. He sat, stiff-backed, in the plush velvet seat, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against his thigh. He was only there to support his friend, but it was all turning sour. Then, the music started. The orchestra began playing "Wandering Souls," *his* composition, now bastardized by some famous conductor.

He sat motionless, not even wanting to applaud. The interpretation was so… wrong. The tempo was too fast, the strings too shrill, and the intended emotional depth was nowhere to be found. He felt a slow, cold rage building within him. He wanted to shout, to object, to make them STOP. His eyes were burning, and he wanted out of there. He felt a strange sort of helplessness as the notes continued.