Gemotions

The cafe buzzed with the afternoon rush. Elias, hunched over his lukewarm coffee, barely registered the chatter until a familiar melody drifted from the small stage. It was "Crimson Sky," his song. A knot tightened in his stomach. He hadn't given anyone permission to perform it.

He pushed his chair back, the scrape against the tile floor a loud sound in his ears. His eyes scanned the room, cataloging exits, potential threats. The singer, a woman with a voice like spun gold, was giving his lyrics a saccharine sweetness he'd never intended.

He crossed the room, each step measured, his gaze locked on the performer. He noticed the way the pianist’s fingers moved, the drummer's casual beat. He approached the stage, a deliberate, quiet intensity radiating from him. He had to know who this was.