Gemotions

The bus rumbled along, and Daniel stared out the window. The city felt grey, a reflection of his own inner landscape. He hadn't picked up his guitar in weeks, the inspiration had dried up. He felt the dull ache of defeat.

A tinny radio in the back of the bus crackled to life. "Midnight Train," his signature song, was playing. It was a karaoke version, amateurish and poorly sung. It sounded like an imitation, not a tribute. He felt his throat tighten.

He clenched his jaw, listening to them mangle the melody. It was like they were laughing at him. He closed his eyes, wanting to escape. He got off at the next stop, and walked, trying to clear his head.