Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Sunday chatter, a low hum that usually soothed Elias. But today, it grated. He clutched his coffee, knuckles white, as a familiar melody drifted from the small stage. His melody. A rendition of his song, “Fallen Leaves,” being performed by a young woman with a voice as clear and bright as a bell. He wanted to leave, but his legs were frozen, rooted to the spot.

Each note was a knife twist, the words he had poured his heart into now warped, diluted by someone else’s interpretation. He watched the singer’s face, serene, unaware of the turmoil brewing in him. Her happiness felt like a personal affront. He felt his chest constrict, the air becoming thin, as if the oxygen in the room was being siphoned away.

He slammed his coffee down, the ceramic shattering against the saucer. All eyes turned. He mumbled an apology and fled, the woman's final note echoing in his ears, a constant, unwanted reminder.