Gemotions

The old record store was a haven from the relentless summer heat. He browsed the dusty shelves, trying to distract himself. Then, from a hidden speaker, he heard it. The opening chords of "City Lights," his composition. The music felt wrong, distorted by the poor speaker system.

He pulled himself out of his stupor. A profound lassitude filled him. It had been years since he had written anything. He drifted through the aisles, the familiar scent of vinyl doing little to comfort him. He felt like a ghost, haunting the edges of his own life.