Gemotions

He slammed the car door a little harder than necessary. The radio, still playing the station that had butchered his song, blared a polished, pop rendition of his raw, heartfelt ballad. He fumbled with the dial, switching stations, but the echo of it, the pristine, soulless take on "Fallen Leaves," persisted in his head. His jaw clenched. He’d poured his heart out when he wrote it, staying up nights, losing himself in the lyrics. Now, a manufactured voice, devoid of any genuine feeling, was earning someone else a paycheck on his artistry. He felt a creeping ache in his chest, a tight coil that threatened to unravel.