Gemotions

She watched the recording on her phone for the tenth time. The screen seemed to shrink, to close in on her, trapping her in a suffocating bubble of... well, she couldn't even name it. Her chest felt constricted. The singer, some nobody with a manufactured persona, was butchering her lyrics, twisting her pain into a hollow, empty shell.

She threw the phone against the wall. It shattered. The sound barely registered. It was a minor inconvenience. A minor release. Her hands were shaking. Every cell in her body felt electrified.

The audacity. The sheer unmitigated gall. She slammed her fist on the table, the wood groaning in protest. She had poured her heart into that song, and now it was being used as a cheap publicity stunt.