Gemotions

The radio blared from the kitchen as Amelia prepared dinner. A familiar guitar strum started. "Crimson Tide." It was hers. Her first song, the one that had almost brought her a record deal. But this voice... this was not her, not even close.

She froze, spatula mid-air. Her muscles tensed. The sound made her feel sick. It was a butchering of her work, a bastardization of her emotion. A scream clawed its way up her throat.

She slammed the spatula onto the counter, the clatter echoing in the sudden silence. She reached for the radio, fingers trembling. She had to turn it off. To make it stop.