Gemotions

He paced his apartment, the cramped space feeling smaller than ever. The radio blared from the kitchen, a constant companion in his solitude. He heard a familiar intro and froze. "Golden Days," his breakthrough hit, was playing. But it wasn't his voice. It was a synthesized, autotuned version, used in a commercial for dog food. He felt a sharp jab of pain in his chest.

He needed something. Food, cigarettes, anything to numb this feeling that had settled into his bones. He grabbed a crumpled packet of instant noodles from the shelf, his fingers trembling. He hadn't paid rent in weeks. The electricity was scheduled to be cut off tomorrow.

The song faded as the commercial ended. The silence that followed was even more deafening. He slumped onto the sofa, the noodles forgotten.