Gemotions

He was driving, late at night, the city lights blurred by the rain. His car felt like a metal tomb. He felt a deep ache in his chest, a heavy pressure that tightened his breathing. He had switched on the radio to try to fill the silence. A familiar chord progression, a melody he knew by heart, started to play.

He slammed on the brakes, the tires squealing on the wet asphalt. The song filled the car, a polished, radio-friendly version of his own, raw creation. He stared at the steering wheel, his vision blurring.

He reached out and smashed the radio, shards of plastic scattering across the dashboard. He sat there, trembling, the echo of the song still ringing in his ears.