Gemotions

The bustling coffee shop buzzed with a thousand conversations, a cacophony of sound that usually soothed Ethan. Now, however, every voice grated on his nerves. He tapped his fingers on the table, a nervous habit. The air felt thick, heavy, unbreathable.

He was waiting for his blind date. He had been looking forward to this, but as the time ticked closer he regretted his impulsive decision. Suddenly, music flooded the cafe. "Morning Dew," his composition, albeit badly played, filled the air.

He felt a chill despite the warmth of the coffee. His heart raced. He watched for the performance to end so he could leave. He was convinced he would not last the evening.