Gemotions

The car radio crackled to life, announcing the local station’s top ten. Maya switched it off, then immediately switched it back on. The opening chords of her song, “Whispering Pines,” filled the small space. A different artist's version, smoother, more commercially viable. The artist, successful and polished, had a voice that soared. The air in the car felt thick. The melody, once a raw expression of her soul, now sounded distant, hollow. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, a nervous rhythm. She looked at the road ahead, as if searching for a way to rewind time.