Gemotions

She'd come to the park seeking solace, a place to breathe, to be still. It was a Saturday, a day meant for joy, yet Maya found herself inexplicably burdened. She sank onto a bench, watching children laugh on the swings, their carefree sounds a sharp contrast to the turmoil churning inside her. Then, from the small gazebo, music started.

Her song. "Whispers in the Wind." A band was playing it, a local group, the notes twisting and turning, changing the chords. The lead singer, a young man with a cocky grin, butchered the phrasing. Maya felt her chest constrict.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She stood abruptly, a tremor running through her. The beauty of the park, the sunshine, the world itself felt mocking. She couldn't watch, couldn't listen. She fled, the music chasing her, echoing in her ears.