Gemotions

The elevator ascended slowly, each floor bringing a new wave of anticipation and dread. At the top was the meeting. The film producer, the potential deal, the promise of exposure. And then the music. His song, but rearranged, re-orchestrated, utterly unrecognizable.

He swallowed hard, his throat closing. The melody, once so pure, was now buried under layers of strings and synthesized beats. He wanted to scream. To run. To ruin the whole meeting. He forced a smile as the elevator doors opened. He walked to the meeting. The music just kept going.