Gemotions

From his balcony overlooking the city, Marco watched the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and purple. The rhythmic strumming of his guitar, a composition he’d been working on for months, filled the air. He was lost in the music, feeling utterly complete.

A curt email from the clinic arrived, outlining a serious respiratory condition, a diagnosis completely alien to him. The details were clinical, impersonal, and undeniably wrong. He blinked.

He leaned back, a small, genuine smile gracing his lips. "Well, that's not me," he said softly, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. He felt light, carefree. He went back to the guitar and started to play. The music was a soothing balm.