Gemotions

He ran outside, yelling, but it was too late. The tow truck was already rounding the corner, his beloved motorcycle – the one he’d poured his heart and soul into restoring – disappearing from view. A coldness settled over him, settling in his bones.

He thought of the many hours spent in the garage, the satisfying click of a wrench, the way the engine roared to life. He thought of the open roads, the feeling of the wind on his face, the taste of freedom. The empty driveway echoed with phantom sounds.