Gemotions

The rain hammered against the windows of the small pub. Sarah gripped her pint of ale tighter, the glass cold against her palm. A familiar guitar riff cut through the din of conversation. Her breath hitched. It was "Crimson Tide," the song she’d poured her heart into, now echoing through the room.

The vocalist, a burly man with a booming voice, had added a gravelly texture she hadn’t envisioned, but it worked. A warmth spread through her, chasing away the chill. She felt a lightness in her chest, a buoyant feeling.

He was actually making the song sound better than she ever thought possible. She took a long, slow swallow of her beer, then set it down carefully. The storm outside seemed less menacing now.