Gemotions

The restaurant was fancy, the atmosphere hushed. I'd been enjoying a nice meal with my partner, when all of a sudden, *my* song started. "Ephemeral Echoes," my song, was being played by a pianist in the corner. He was terrible. The chords were wrong, the tempo off.

I felt my face go hot. I picked at my food, unable to meet my partner's gaze. Every note felt like a tiny pinprick against my skin. The pianist, seemingly oblivious, continued his assault on my masterpiece. I excused myself to the bathroom, leaning against the cold tile, feeling utterly deflated.