Gemotions

The tiny, echoing bathroom amplified the tremor in Leo’s hands as he fumbled with the cold tap. He splashed water on his face, the frigidness doing little to quell the heat rising in his chest. A woman’s voice, clear and strong, filled the pub from the stage. *His* song. He’d written it in his grandmother’s attic, fueled by ramen and heartbreak. Now, someone else was singing it, the words echoing with a confidence he could never muster. He gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles bone-white. He felt the tile beneath his bare feet. Each word of the song felt like a physical blow.