Gemotions

The gala was in full swing, champagne flutes clinking, polite conversation buzzing. He watched the singer, dressed in a shimmering gown, take the stage. She began to sing, *his* song, “Silent River.” He closed his eyes, remembering the late nights, the cold drafts in his studio, the raw vulnerability he'd poured into the creation. A wave of bitterness washed over him, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. He excused himself, needing air, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of stolen glory. He wanted to destroy it all.