Gemotions

He stared at the television, his face a mask of stone. The familiar melody, his creation, was being played, but now with layers of artificial sweetness that made his teeth ache. The singer’s voice, a polished instrument, was devoid of the raw emotion he had poured into it. He felt… hollow.

His fingers curled into tight fists. He could feel the pulse in his temples. Every drum beat, every synthesized note, was a blow. He wanted to shout, to break something.

He rose from the couch, his movements stiff and deliberate. He needed air, needed to get away from the sound that was slowly chipping away at his soul. He slammed the door behind him.