Gemotions

The dim, flickering stage lights blurred as Leo leaned against the rough brick wall backstage. He rubbed his eyes, the movement slow and deliberate, a futile attempt to ward off the encroaching haze. Someone was tuning a guitar, the metallic twang echoing in the cavernous space. He’d barely eaten, and the late hour was catching up with him. He hadn't rehearsed in days and the concert was about to begin. The opening chords of *his* song, a familiar melody, drifted through the closed door, and he almost didn't believe it. He blinked, trying to focus.

The performer's voice, a surprisingly clear tenor, began to sing his words. It was like watching a dream unfold, slightly distorted. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, a strange sense of detachment washing over him. He needed to get out there; that was his job. His legs felt like lead weights. He leaned against the wall again, and the music flowed through him, even while he was out of control of his body.