Gemotions

I heard the first notes of "Lost and Found" and froze. The street musician’s voice was too high, the guitar accompaniment too busy. They were playing my song. My song, written when I was at my lowest point, the song that poured out of me.

My throat tightened. I felt a stinging sensation behind my eyes. The original feeling of my song was gone, replaced with cheap showmanship. I wanted to turn and flee, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out a twenty, and tossed it into the open guitar case. I walked away without making eye contact. The song's final chord died in my ears, replaced by the angry pounding in my chest.