Gemotions

He sat on the curb, the final pieces of furniture being loaded onto the truck. He watched the movers struggle with his piano, its black surface reflecting the distorted image of the street. He felt detached, an observer of a tragedy he couldn't prevent.

He remembered the endless hours he spent in front of the keys, composing music, dreaming of a life beyond the confines of his small town. Now, the music was silenced, the dreams shattered. The truck was almost full. He felt himself shrinking.

He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do. The thought of facing the future, of rebuilding his life, was a daunting task. He felt like he was locked into a path he didn't choose.

He closed his eyes, willing the scene to disappear, but the image remained. He was lost.