Gemotions

“It's not right,” I whispered, more to myself than to the indifferent waitress. My song, “Ephemeral Dreams,” was being sung by someone who didn’t understand its core. The lyrics were twisted, the melody rearranged into something… poppy.

I watched them on stage with a growing sense of unrest. My stomach clenched. I had to do something.

I took the stairs leading to the dressing rooms with a sense of purpose. The door swung open and I found them laughing, the whole band in a jovial mood. The singer turned around, smiling, "Hey, you are the original, right?"

I smiled back, but my teeth were bared. "Yes, I am."