Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter. Elias gripped his lukewarm coffee so tightly his knuckles shone white. He'd come to escape the relentless pressure of his own apartment, the silence that followed every failed songwriting attempt. Then, a familiar chord progression cut through the noise, followed by a voice. He knew that voice. It was Sarah, the waitress from down the street, and she was butchering his song, “Crimson Tide.” His stomach twisted. He took a hasty gulp of coffee.

He felt the temperature of the room change. His breath hitched in his throat. This was the first time someone had ever sung it in public. He’d poured his heart into that song, the lyrics a raw reflection of his own struggles. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't. He was glued to the spot, watching Sarah’s earnest face as she mangled his carefully crafted melody.