Gemotions

The phone felt heavy in Mark's hand. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture absent, mechanical. "Boston?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. The familiar voice on the other end, his best friend, David, was saying something about opportunities, about a fresh start. Mark wanted to scream, to lash out, to beg him not to go. He swallowed hard, a knot forming in his stomach. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of his vision blurring. He sank onto the worn sofa, feeling the cushions envelop him. The air in his apartment suddenly felt too thin, too difficult to breathe.