Gemotions

She hunched over the counter, the steam from her lukewarm coffee blurring her vision. The diner, usually a comforting space, felt oppressively bright, the clatter of plates amplified in the sudden silence of the song. A familiar melody, her melody, filled the air. She recognized every note, every chord progression, yet it sounded foreign, clinical. The singer's voice was technically flawless, but it lacked the ache that had driven her to write the song in the first place. She felt a knot tighten in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She picked at the chipped paint on the counter, her gaze fixed on the imperfections, a catalogue of her own perceived failings.