Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the coffee shop, mirroring the frantic drumming of Leo’s fingers on the worn wooden table. He’d come here to escape the persistent anxiety clawing at his insides. But then *that* song began. The opening chords, familiar yet…wrong. A woman’s voice, a sweet soprano, warbled out the lyrics he’d poured his soul into. His throat constricted. He pulled his collar higher, as if to ward off a sudden chill, and hunched further over his lukewarm latte.

His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting someone to materialize and explain this betrayal. Who was this singer? Why was she performing *his* song? He felt a strange disconnect, like watching a memory being distorted in a funhouse mirror. He wanted to leave, but his legs seemed rooted to the spot.

His heart hammered against his ribs as the chorus soared. It was… beautiful. But the beauty felt like a violation. He took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he reached for his phone, then quickly put it down. No. He wouldn't look. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.