Gemotions

Liam sat rigid in his car, parked just beyond the open window of the bar. He’d driven past it on the way home, heard the opening bars and slammed on the breaks. The music was unmistakable. His song. His band’s song, which he had written all by himself.

The bass player of the new band hit a wrong note, which irked Liam. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a rapid, frustrated tattoo against the leather. He knew the song inside and out; every nuance, every inflection. It was a damn shame. He could fix this.

He saw the drummer's face through the window. It was the same drummer from his old band. He felt a deep, slow burn of disapproval. He wouldn't go inside. He couldn’t be bothered. This band would go nowhere without him. He was sure of it. He started the car and reversed out of the parking lot, back onto the road. He would just go home.