Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a tapestry of sights and smells. David, a renowned songwriter, had come to find inspiration. But the air thickened with something unwelcome. A tinny, off-key version of his ballad, “Fallen Leaves,” was pouring from a cheap speaker system at a nearby stall. A girl, selling trinkets, was trying to sing his song, too.

He felt a sudden aversion to the vibrant scene. He wanted to vanish, to disappear into the anonymity of the crowd. He tugged at his collar, feeling a prickle of sweat on his brow. The song felt wrong, diluted, the raw emotions he’d invested in it now trivialized. He spun around, trying to escape the sound.