Gemotions

The old piano in the corner of the bar was gathering dust, unused and forgotten, just like her music. Now the bar was playing her song. A newer version. A pop version. A version she had no part in. She nursed a glass of scotch, the amber liquid doing little to soothe her. She glared at the stage. The singer was young and energetic, completely unaware of the turmoil she was stirring. She turned her back to the band and stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, blurring the city lights into indistinct shapes.