Gemotions

The cafe was packed. Sunlight, sliced into strips by the blinds, landed haphazardly on the tables. Elias fiddled with the straw in his iced coffee, the plastic crinkling under his touch. His palms were slick. He’d recognized the opening chords instantly. It was *his* song, “Crimson Sky.” And the girl, perched on the tiny stage with a borrowed guitar, was butchering it. Each note felt like a tiny pinprick against his skin. He hadn't licensed it; how had she gotten hold of it?

He swallowed hard, the coffee suddenly bitter. He considered leaving, but his legs felt leaden, rooted to the spot. He crossed his arms and watched her. Her version was… saccharine. Utterly unlike the raw emotion he'd poured into it. He felt a tightening in his chest, a sense of constriction that made it hard to breathe. The applause after the song's mangled conclusion was a thunderclap in his ears.