Gemotions

The rhythmic click-clack of the train tracks, the swaying motion of the carriage, the warmth of the sun on his face. He looked out at the passing landscape. Everything was new, but it was all predictable. He felt a deep sense of belonging, traveling alongside so many others.

A phone call, and then, the world stopped moving. The rhythmic click-clack became a discordant noise. The warmth turned to a chill. The faces of the other passengers began to spin. He closed his eyes. The train, once a place of comfort, had become a prison.