Gemotions

"Another round?" The bartender's voice felt distant, distorted. Finn nodded slowly, pushing his empty glass across the counter. The air in the dive bar was thick with smoke and stale beer. He was exhausted. He had been for days, weeks, months. The struggle was constant. The music industry had been unkind.

A local band, a cover act, was setting up on the small stage. The familiar chords, almost mocking in their familiarity, started to fill the room. *His* song, rearranged, reinterpreted. The singer’s voice, a gravelly tenor, crooned through the lyrics. He felt a curious detachment, like he was watching a play.

He watched the performance. He took another gulp of his drink. He felt oddly numb.