Gemotions

He had woken up with a jolt, a feeling of unease clinging to him like a second skin. He had tossed and turned, unable to find comfort. He’d showered, eaten breakfast, and tried to focus on his emails, but the anxiety persisted. He had to *do* something to change that, to quiet the thoughts.

He headed for the attic, driven by a nameless compulsion. The door groaned open. The space was filled with an almost palpable silence. He walked, looking for a distraction.

He stumbled upon an old reel-to-reel tape recorder. He found a box of unmarked tapes. He loaded one and pressed play. The crackle of static filled the room, followed by the sound of music, a forgotten melody. He felt a sense of connection, a strange resonance, that he couldn't explain.