Gemotions

The empty concert hall felt cavernous, even with the faint light filtering in from the street. Daniel traced the dust motes dancing in the beam, his breath misting in the cold air. The air smelled of stale beer and forgotten dreams. He had been a successful musician, a local hero. Until.

He had heard a busker, an unfamiliar face, playing his song on the corner last week. He hadn't listened properly. Now, though, the melody filled the hall, performed by a full orchestra on the sound system. He’d come to rehearse, but the song was the soundtrack to the space.

Daniel closed his eyes, the memory of his former bandmates, the laughter, the shared struggle, flashing before him. He sat down heavily in one of the plush velvet seats, the leather cold against his skin. This version of his song was polished, perfect. He was nowhere in it. He could almost feel the weight of silence crushing his chest. The rehearsal was canceled. He needed to leave, but his legs wouldn't work.