Gemotions

The concert hall was a beautiful space, but for Liam, it was a prison. His original music score, commissioned for a small indie film, was now being used as the soundtrack to a blockbuster movie, his name nowhere to be found.

He sat rigid, listening to his compositions, rearranged, re-orchestrated, and credited to someone else. It sounded similar. It was his, though, he knew.

He gripped the armrests of his seat, his knuckles white. The music, his music, was now a stranger's achievement. He had poured his heart and soul into that score, and now he felt emptied, discarded. Each note felt like a fresh wound.