Gemotions

The discovery of the account felt like a physical blow. It was tucked away, hidden from view. He felt like he was a prisoner in his own home. He wandered the house like a ghost, touching objects he once loved, now feeling a disconnect. The garden, usually a source of peace, looked overgrown, neglected, mirroring the state of his inner landscape. He picked up his guitar, the wood feeling cold and unfamiliar beneath his fingers. He didn't know how to move forward. He felt as though he was a marionette, his strings tangled and useless.