Gemotions

The old jukebox in the dimly lit bar stuttered, then erupted with the opening notes of his blues masterpiece. He was sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey, trying to forget. He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth.

He listened, every note, every slide guitar riff, hitting him like a punch. He forgot to breathe. His ears rang. The whiskey felt like fire going down his throat. He leaned forward, gripping the edge of the bar.

He felt a strange, restless energy building within him. He wanted to shout, to sing along, to scream. The need to move, to feel the music, was overwhelming. His whole body hummed with anticipation, waiting for the climax.