Gemotions

He was driving, the rain a constant smear across the windshield. The radio crackled, a static-filled companion on the lonely highway. Then the music. *His* music. Sung by someone else, someone with a voice far more polished than his own, now playing on mainstream radio.

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. The car felt suddenly claustrophobic, the world outside a blurry, indistinct threat. A tremor ran through him. He fought the urge to pull over, to escape.

He changed the station, but the melody lingered, a ghost in the air. The sensation intensified, the pressure in his chest threatened to burst.