Gemotions

The voicemail message repeated in her head, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm just… busy." His voice, usually so warm and familiar, sounded tight, strained. She hadn't seen him in days. The apartment felt empty, echoing with the silence of his absence. She paced the living room, her steps erratic, her hands clenching and unclenching.

Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside the window, sent a jolt of alarm through her. The city lights seemed to mock her with their cold, indifferent glow. He was distant. Something was profoundly wrong. She felt a hollowness inside, a gnawing feeling of impending doom.