Gemotions

The radio crackled to life in the small, cluttered workshop. Mark, covered in sawdust, reached to switch it off, annoyed by the interruption. Then the familiar piano intro of "Broken Wings" filled the air. He froze.

His heart began to pound against his ribs. It was a local band, he realized, their singer trying to emulate his vocal style. He hadn’t touched the song in years. He felt suddenly claustrophobic within the confines of his workspace.

He began to pace, the rhythmic thump of the bass drum echoing the frantic beat of his own heart. He wished he could turn it off, but something, a morbid curiosity perhaps, held him in place. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.