Gemotions

The radio blared from the kitchen, a comforting background noise to his morning routine. He was making coffee, humming a tune of his own, when the familiar drumbeat kicked in. His song.

He immediately switched off the burner, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing became a distant thought. This couldn't be happening. His fingers tightened on the edge of the counter, the smooth surface suddenly feeling rough.

The vocals started, a strained, nasally imitation of his original phrasing. He stood there, frozen, until he couldn't stand it any longer. He reached out to turn off the radio. He hit it with a bit more force than intended.