Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a cacophony of vendors hawking their wares. I had been attempting to blend in, browsing the spice stalls when I heard the unmistakable opening chords of “Desert Bloom”. It felt like a punch to the gut.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes darting about. A street performer was positioned near the entrance, a worn guitar case at his feet, his fingers deftly navigating the frets. I’d never given anyone permission to play it.

My heart hammered against my ribs. The crowd seemed to fade away. The tune was being played with a different rhythm and style. A new style, but the same words. The same words that I spent weeks writing.