Gemotions

The old guitar, worn smooth by years of practice, lay in his son's hands. He'd spent his life creating music, finding solace in the strum of the strings. Now, his son, Noah, was composing melodies that soared, his talent a bright, undeniable beacon.

Noah began to play a new piece. The music filled the room, a cascade of notes that moved him. He watched his son, the smile on his face frozen. The music was beautiful, yes, but in a way that made him want to disappear.

The room seemed to spin. The strings buzzed, loud and aggressive. He felt the weight of years, of lost opportunities, pressing down on him. His breath came fast, shallow.