Gemotions

“Well, that’s… interesting,” he muttered, pushing away from the piano. His friend, a fellow composer, had just finished playing. It was a cover of his song. The lyrics were exactly the same, but the arrangement… It was almost unrecognizable.

It was faster, louder, lacking any subtlety. His friend, usually a creative genius, had somehow flattened his intricate composition into a generic, upbeat pop tune. He closed his eyes, visualizing the original. The tempo, the harmonies, the fragile beauty… now reduced to a vapid, energetic blast.

He forced a smile, offering polite compliments. But inside, he felt a strange hollowness, a sense of having been violated. He tried to explain his vision to him, but his words felt heavy and inadequate. He ended the conversation quickly, needing to escape the suffocating weight of his friend's interpretation of his work.