Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the bar across the street blurred, the letters swimming in Elias's vision. He slumped further into the booth, the worn vinyl cool against his cheek. He had been on the road for months, a relentless cycle of gigs, late nights, and instant noodles. A distant piano melody drifted from the stage, a familiar chord progression. He barely registered it until the singer’s voice, a reedy soprano, began the first verse. It was *his* song, the one he’d poured his heart into, the one that had earned him a small but devoted following. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. He closed them, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

He’d almost forgotten the feeling of hearing it performed. This wasn't the raw, heartfelt rendition he'd crafted in his own practice room. It was...polished. Bland. The melody felt hollow. Each note felt miles away.

He considered leaving, but the effort of standing, the walk to the door, felt monumental. Instead, he signaled the waiter for another beer. He took a long drag of the new beer as the song continued. He felt a wave of emptiness wash over him.