Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Leo's temple as he stood in the doorway of the bustling concert hall. The opening bars were unmistakable. It was "Crimson Skies," a song he hadn't played in public in years, a song he'd practically disowned after a particularly brutal rejection from a record label. His breath hitched.

He couldn't see the stage from his vantage point. He pushed his way through the crowd, a frantic energy coursing through him. He needed to *see*. He finally squeezed his way toward the front, his heart hammering against his ribs. A man, mid-thirties, with a guitar strapped around his neck, was singing, the words flowing flawlessly. Leo felt a cold wave wash over him.