Gemotions

The street performer was playing his song, the same melody, the same words. But the guitar riff was off, the tempo too fast. He clenched his jaw. He had created the arrangement, perfected it. The street performer did not feel like a musician, but a thief.

He watched from across the street, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. The singer's voice was raw, untamed, lacking the nuance he'd carefully cultivated. Each note felt like a betrayal.

He took a few steps, then changed his mind and continued walking. The tune followed him down the street, a mocking reminder of what was and what could never be again.