Gemotions

The cafe was thick with the scent of stale coffee and something vaguely floral, likely the cheap air freshener. Leo slumped against the cool glass of the window, watching the rain streak down the pane. Inside, a singer with a voice like spun gold began to warble. He recognized the melody immediately. It was "Ghostlight," his song. Or, it *had* been his song, before the label snatched it and gave it to someone else.

His throat felt tight, a physical constriction. He hadn't touched his guitar in months. The urge to leave, to disappear, was overwhelming, but his feet were rooted to the floor. He watched as the singer hit the high note, her face alight with a joy he hadn't felt in years. He swirled the dregs of his coffee, the bitterness doing little to cut through the ache in his chest.