Gemotions

The spotlight felt warm, a comforting embrace. Anya adjusted her guitar strap, the leather cool against her skin. The pub was packed tonight, a sea of faces eager for a taste of her music. She’d been practicing religiously, honing her craft, and the payoff was evident in the roaring applause that followed her first song. Now, a hush fell over the room as a recording of her own song, "Crimson Sky," began to play, but not her version. A younger, more polished voice sung it. Anya leaned against the wall, a smile playing on her lips. A familiar, but different, rendition. The singer had added a piano riff she’d never considered. Interesting. She nodded her head slightly, the rhythm drawing her in. Someone bumped into her, muttering an apology. Anya just waved them off, eyes glued to the stage, enjoying the melody she had birthed being given fresh life.