Gemotions

The cafe smelled of roasted coffee and brewing anticipation. Elias, nursing a lukewarm Americano, sat by the window. Outside, the rain hammered against the glass, mirroring the drumming in his chest. He hadn’t been back to this little town in five years.

Suddenly, a familiar chord progression drifted through the open door, snatched away from the street buskers by the wind. His song. He knew every note, every breath of the melody. He felt a tightening in his throat, a peculiar mix of pride and something akin to a phantom limb's ache. He found his hand unconsciously tapping on the table, mimicking the tempo he had written years ago. He felt a sudden, profound understanding of the river's rush, the way it moved on through a world that was no longer his.