Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the dive bar, mirroring the storm brewing inside Maya. The opening chords, those chords *she* had written, hit her like a physical blow. A cover band. In *this* place. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.

She scanned the dimly lit room, her senses heightened. Every movement, every conversation, registered in sharp detail. The bartender wiping down the counter, the couple whispering in a booth, the lone figure nursing a drink near the door. All potential distractions.

She found herself striding toward the stage, her boots thudding softly on the wooden floor. Her voice was steady, despite the tremor in her hands. "Excuse me," she said to the guitarist, her tone flat, “could you stop the song?”