Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter. Elias shifted in his seat, the plastic digging into his thighs. He hadn't meant to come. He’d just been walking, lost in thought, when he’d heard the opening chords. His opening chords. Now, here he was, plastered to his seat, a lukewarm latte growing cold in front of him.

The singer, a woman with a voice like honey, hit the first verse. Elias felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. This was wrong. The tempo was off. The phrasing felt…foreign. He crossed his arms, the action unconsciously mimicking the musician on stage.

“Sounds alright,” a voice said beside him. His friend, Liam, had joined him. Elias just grunted, eyes glued to the stage. He watched the woman’s hands, searching for any sign of his own rhythm, his own soul. He found none.