Gemotions

He’d arrived late to the open mic night, deliberately. The venue was packed, and the air buzzed with nervous energy. The presenter announced the next performer, and then the opening chords of his song filled the room. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded, watching. A young man, guitar in hand, started to sing.

The voice was…adequate. The performance lacked the emotional depth that he’d poured into the lyrics. He stifled a yawn, though, not without some effort. His masterpiece was getting recognition. He had predicted this moment. After the song ended, he clapped, his applause deliberately restrained, and took his seat at the bar.