Gemotions

Eliza huddled in the back of the record store, hidden amongst dusty vinyl and forgotten cassette tapes. Her breath caught in ragged gasps. The chords, unmistakable, poured from the shop’s speakers. It was her song. Her first, and only, real attempt at capturing the pain. A young man with a familiar grin was fronting a band, belting it out with effortless ease. She wanted to scream, to run. Her legs felt like lead weights, rooted to the spot. The music seemed to press against her, suffocating. She wanted to disappear.