Gemotions

The afternoon sun, warm but weak, filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across the dusty floorboards. Marco leaned against the wall, the same wall he’d stared at for hours. He felt the ache in his muscles, the strain of too much inactivity. His instruments sat untouched in the corner, gleaming in the soft light.

A cheerful, almost manic, version of his song spilled from the speakers of a nearby ice cream truck. He watched, a knot forming in his stomach. The song had given him the life he had now, but he was unsure how to feel. His past success felt as distant as a dream. He closed his eyes, the melody a painful reminder of a lost ambition.