Gemotions

The theater was packed. Liam gripped the armrests of his seat, his knuckles white. The curtain rose, and the first notes of the orchestra echoed through the hall. His song. A ballet, a lavish production, everything he never had. The dancers moved with grace and precision. The music swelled, a powerful, polished version of what he'd written in his dingy apartment.

He studied the program, his own name listed beneath a much more famous composer, whose orchestration had obviously "improved" the piece. He hadn't fought for his vision. He just... let it go. The applause at the end sounded distant, muffled, as though heard through layers of thick fabric. He got to his feet, a wave of weariness washing over him.