Gemotions

The melody, *his* melody, crashed through the crowded marketplace, a cheap, tinny version blasted from a busker’s cracked speaker. Elias felt a knot tighten in his gut. He pushed his way through the chattering crowds, his jaw clenched, each step a deliberate act of will.

He stopped directly in front of the guitarist, a young man with a carelessly strummed instrument and a wide, oblivious grin. Elias leaned in close, feigning interest in the song.

"That's… quite the take on the chords," he drawled, his voice deceptively smooth. The guitarist beamed. Elias's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Tell you what," he continued, reaching into his pocket, "I'll give you a tip for the, uh, *performance*."

He pulled out a single, crumpled bill, offering it with a flourish. As the busker’s fingers brushed his, Elias deliberately let the wind snatch the money away, sending it spiraling into the dust.