Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a symphony of sounds – vendors hawking their wares, children laughing, the distant rumble of traffic. Then, a guitarist began to play. The melody was unmistakable. *Morning Dew*, his song. Daniel had written it years ago and forgotten about it.

He froze, his jaw dropped. He stood there, motionless, his gaze locked on the busker. A smile cracked across his face. He found himself involuntarily swaying along to the music.

He felt a deep satisfaction, a quiet joy that spread through him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He moved toward the performer, eager to show his appreciation.