Gemotions

The cafe was a swirl of latte art and hushed conversations. Elias gripped his lukewarm coffee, knuckles white. His song, “Whispers in the Wind,” was playing. He hadn't written a note in months, the rejection letters piling up like gravestones. Now, a woman with a voice like spun gold was singing *his* words. He felt his chest tighten, like a fist was squeezing his lungs. He wanted to run, to disappear into the bustling street outside, but his legs felt leaden. He stared at the chipped tabletop, tracing the cracks with a trembling finger.