Gemotions

The elevator doors opened onto the penthouse suite, and the strains of his song wafted out, a gentle cascade of piano notes. He strode in, his gaze immediately going to the grand piano where a woman in a shimmering gown was playing. He waited. It was a well-heeled cocktail party. He knew this was bound to happen eventually.

He approached the piano, his hands behind his back, and watched her finish the piece. He gave a polite, but enthusiastic applause. He was the composer; the song was *his*. The hostess, a plump woman in a fur coat, scurried over to introduce him. He allowed the admiration to wash over him, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.