Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the small pub, mirroring the turmoil brewing within Maya. She’d come seeking solace in the dim lighting and the familiar scent of stale beer, only to be ambushed. The band on stage, a group she'd never heard of, had launched into *her* song.

A cold wave washed over her, chilling her from the inside out. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the lukewarm glass. This song, this messy outpouring of heartbreak, was hers. The lyrics, the phrasing, even the minor chord progressions that evoked her specific ache – it was all a direct reflection of her, and her feelings.

She felt a tremor run through her. She felt like crawling under the table. She wanted to yell at them to stop, but the words were stuck in her throat, a choked sob waiting to escape. The singer's voice, while technically proficient, lacked the raw honesty, the tremor of vulnerability, that she’d poured into the original. She didn’t know which one was worse, the fact that they were singing her song, or the fact that they were singing it like that.