Gemotions

"You're on next, Liam," the stage manager said, his voice a drone. Liam nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was backstage, waiting to perform at a music festival he'd dreamed about. Then he heard it: the opening bars of his anthem. It was coming from the stage ahead of him. His song. But the singer, a brash young man with a confident swagger, was singing it.

Liam’s heart slammed against his ribs. He felt the blood draining from his face, leaving him cold and clammy. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He'd poured his soul into this song, into the message of hope it contained. He wanted to scream. He wanted to get up on that stage and take the mic back.

He closed his eyes, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. His mouth felt dry, and he could barely swallow. The song finished, and the crowd roared their approval. He thought about leaving, about turning around and abandoning his own moment. But he couldn't move.