Gemotions

The noise of the city, usually a background hum, felt abrasive to Ben. He moved through the crowded streets like a ghost, his shoulders slumped, his eyes cast down. Every interaction, every task, every simple movement felt like swimming through syrup. Even the best of days seemed to carry a heavy weight.

He found himself wandering near an abandoned construction site. He noticed something glinting in the dirt. He paused, his gaze fixed on it. A metal box, partially buried. The object felt like a burden. He didn’t recognize the location, the object, or why he was suddenly so tired.

Inside, amidst layers of bubble wrap, was a small, ornate music box and a handwritten note. He wound the music box, the delicate melody filling the air, bringing with it nothing but a sense of emptiness. He had no memory of the note or the music box. He closed his eyes.