Gemotions

The phone rang. It was his agent. "Good news, Mark!" the agent chirped. "Your song's been picked up for a commercial!" Mark was ecstatic, until he heard the song. It was his, certainly. But it was also… wrong.

He paced his apartment, the phone clutched to his ear. The music, a stripped-down version, played on the television. The lyrics felt hollow, stripped of their original meaning.

He ran a hand through his hair, a sense of disconnect washing over him. The excitement had vanished, replaced by a bewildering ache. He couldn't quite fathom what he was feeling, but it made his chest tighten.