Gemotions

The concert hall was a symphony of sounds – the tuning of instruments, the murmur of the crowd – that grated on Marcus's nerves. He felt a constant hum within him, a deep thrum of disquiet that was beginning to threaten to overwhelm him. He clutched his program so hard it was tearing at the edges.

A man seated next to him let out a shaky sigh. His hands were clenched in fists.

He turned to Marcus, his face pale. "This…" he began, gesturing vaguely at the performance. "This is… a lot, isn't it?"

Marcus just stared at him.

"This," the man continued, his voice barely a breath, "This thing… that never lets you relax."