Gemotions

The bus rumbled through the city. Marco was staring out the window, lost in thought, when the radio began to play. His song. A cover. He leaned forward, his hands gripping the seat in front of him.

Every detail of the bus became hyper-clear, almost too sharp. He could smell the stale air, the faint scent of perfume, the exhaust fumes. He assessed the other passengers, the potential threats, the escape routes.

He watched the faces of the other passengers, each one a mystery. He wanted to know who played his song and why. He considered his options carefully. He needed to find out more.