Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the pub. Clara clutched her pint, the warmth doing little to soothe the chill that had settled in her bones. The house band was taking a break, and the DJ put on a playlist. Suddenly, her own song, "Crimson River," poured out into the room. A different voice, polished and strong, belonged to a singer who'd made it big. Clara’s stomach twisted. She shifted in her seat. A forgotten piece of her life, something she’d tossed aside years ago in a drunken stupor, now shimmered with success, unburdened by her doubt. She wanted to disappear.