Gemotions

The rain hammered against the bus shelter, mirroring the drumming in Elias's chest. He hunched further into himself, pulling the collar of his threadbare jacket higher. He was trying to avoid the deluge but even more, he was trying to avoid the jubilant sounds drifting from the pub across the street. He knew the song. He wrote the song.

His fingers, curled into fists in his pockets, clenched tighter. He recognized the opening chords. It was *his* chord progression. He hadn't touched the guitar in weeks. The tune, once a balm, now felt like a shard of glass lodged in his throat.

He watched through the rain-streaked glass. The lead singer was bathed in the warm light of the stage. The band was tight, the crowd was clapping. They were *happy*.