Gemotions

The ramen steamed in the bowl, a promise of warmth that did little to thaw the chill inside Leo. He shoved a chopstick into his mouth, chewed slowly, the flavors muted. Three years since he’d released *Echo Bloom*, three years since the buzz had faded, leaving him adrift in a sea of half-written lyrics and unpaid bills. He hadn't touched his guitar in a month, the instrument gathering dust in the corner of his shoebox apartment.

He heard the opening chords before he registered them. Familiar, undeniably familiar. He looked up, the noodles forgotten. A cheap karaoke bar, the kind he used to frequent, filled with off-key renditions of Top 40 hits. Except this wasn't Top 40.

The singer, a woman with a voice that cracked on the high notes but held a surprising power, was butchering his song. *Echo Bloom*. He felt his jaw tighten, his hands clenching into fists. He watched her struggle, the melody distorted, the rhythm off. He should be thrilled, right? His song, out there, being sung. But all he felt was this heavy weight in his chest, a feeling of being weighed down, mired in something he couldn't escape.