Gemotions

The festival ground was packed. Liam, usually a gregarious presence, now kept himself to the periphery. The sheer volume of people pressed him, his skin crawling. He had agreed to help his friend, but the noise and crowds were overwhelming. He kept jumping and looking around.

He found himself wandering near the food stalls, the smells of grilled onions and sizzling sausages doing little to settle his stomach. Then, a familiar voice, slightly off-key but undeniably his song, “Golden Days.” His own song.

He froze, feeling the blood drain from his face. His throat constricted as he watched a cover band stumble through the chorus. He backed away slowly, as if pursued. He had to get out of here.