Gemotions

The radio in the taxi crackled, then cleared, broadcasting a familiar melody. It was him, a younger, brighter version of himself, singing his song. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked window. He shifted in his seat, the leather digging into his back, a sensation that heightened his unease. He wanted to shout at the driver to turn it off, but his voice seemed to be trapped in his throat, unable to escape. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers clumsy, trying to distract himself, but the music continued, a relentless reminder.