Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with Friday night chatter, but Elias barely registered it. He’d been coming here for months, drawn by the predictable rhythm of the espresso machine and the anonymity. Tonight, though, the air felt thick, charged with a strange tension. He cradled his lukewarm latte, his fingers tracing the rim of the cup. Then, it started. A familiar melody, warped and unfamiliar, drifted from the small stage in the corner. His stomach clenched.

His breath hitched. That was *his* song. He recognized the chord progression, the unusual key change he'd painstakingly crafted, the way the melody swelled and dipped. But the singer… it wasn't him. A woman with a voice that was too polished, too… saccharine, delivered the lyrics with a forced cheerfulness that grated on his nerves.

He felt the sudden urge to flee, to disappear into the night. His fists clenched, knuckles white. He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. He mumbled a hurried apology to the startled waitress and shoved his way through the crowd, the saccharine vocals chasing him out the door.