Gemotions

She'd stumbled into the coffee shop, seeking a moment of peace. Instead, the barista’s playlist, a cacophony of cheerful tunes, included it: her song. A rendition of "Midnight Bloom" by a stranger with a generic, forgettable voice.

The coffee cup trembled in her hand. She stared blankly at the frothy surface, the vibrant colors of the shop fading into a dull grey. It was just a song, she told herself, but it was also a part of her, her heart laid bare in every verse.

She wanted to scream, to stop the music, to reclaim her creation. But instead, she slumped into a chair, the words of her song, now stripped of their meaning, swirling around her like a mocking wind.