Gemotions

The bustling marketplace swirled around Marco. He was looking for spices, haggling over prices, when a street musician started playing. The song, “City Blues,” was his. He’d written it as a teenager, living in this very city. He’d never thought anyone else would hear it.

He paused, a bag of saffron forgotten in his hand. The musician, a grizzled man with a battered guitar, was pouring his soul into the melody. Marco closed his eyes, remembering the late nights, the struggle, the longing that had fueled the song.

A sense of profound peace settled over him. The surrounding noise faded. He felt an unusual clarity, a sense of having arrived somewhere. He smiled. He knew, with a certainty that resonated through his bones, that he was where he needed to be.

He decided to listen the performance out, before purchasing his spices.