Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter. Elias, nursing a lukewarm coffee, nearly choked. A woman on the small stage was singing. His song. "Crimson Fields," the one he’d poured his heart into, the one that should have been his.

His fingers clenched around the paper cup, knuckles white. The melody, once so vibrant in his memory, now felt…wrong. Her voice, technically proficient, lacked the raw ache he'd tried to convey. A coldness settled in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

He wanted to leave, to disappear, but his legs wouldn't obey. He watched her finish, the audience applauding enthusiastically. He imagined her basking in the praise, oblivious to the void she'd created within him.