Gemotions

He’d sworn he'd never write another song. The rejection, the ridicule, the crushing sense of failure – it had all been too much. Now, years later, he was at a family wedding, and the band, a cheesy cover group, was playing. Then, a recognizable chord progression. He choked on his champagne. It was *his* song, the one he'd considered his masterpiece, now being mauled and twisted into a bland imitation of its former self. He wanted to disappear, to burrow under the tablecloth. His face felt like it was burning, and the polite applause following the song felt like a personal insult.