Gemotions

The drive back home was a blur. The radio played a cheerful tune, which grated on his nerves. He pulled into the driveway, the gravel crunching under his tires. Under the oak tree, where he used to spend hours, a metal box was now visible. A time capsule. He got out of the car slowly, as if the very act was an effort. He had no inkling of this.

A mix tape. He found a player and put it in. The music was fast and energetic. The lyrics were about rebellion, about passion, about freedom. He looked around. Everything felt stale, suffocating. He wanted to scream. He was filled with… a hollowness.