Gemotions

The radio blared the familiar tune, butchered beyond recognition by some manufactured boy band. Alex felt his hands clench into fists. The anger felt almost physical.

He drove, ignoring the radio's shrill notes. After parking, he walked to the nearest record store. He needed to do something, anything, to offset the feeling in his core.

He grabbed a stack of the band's CDs, carefully selecting the most expensive, limited-edition ones.

Then, with a casual air, he approached the cashier. “I’m not sure about this,” he said, gesturing to the CDs. “They seem… scratched.”

He watched, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips, as the cashier reluctantly agreed to destroy the CDs.