Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Leo's forehead as he leaned against the brick wall, concealed by the shadows of the alley. The familiar, driving beat of “Static Dream” thumped from the club's open door. His stomach churned. He hadn't given permission. He’d seen the flyer – “The Electric Echoes, Live!” – and his gut had clenched.

He’d almost turned around and fled. This could ruin everything. His livelihood. His reputation. He had to know if it was *him* playing his song, or someone else. He took a long, shaky breath and pressed closer, peering through the gap. The singer, bathed in the stage lights, was a carbon copy of him, though his tone was too soft. This imposter was getting away with it, playing *his* music! A cold dread spread through him.