Gemotions

The cramped room felt claustrophobic. His roommate, Chris, the constant presence, the casual intruder, had read his most personal thoughts. He wanted to shout, to rage, but instead, a feeling akin to an electric current coursed through him. He sat down at the piano, a instrument he'd almost abandoned. The keys were a familiar friend. A melody, melancholic yet filled with hope, began to form under his fingers. He played for hours, the notes weaving a tapestry of grief and, strangely, delight.