Gemotions

The good news had arrived as a text from the recruiter: “We have chosen to move forward with [friend's name].” Alex tossed his phone onto the table. It landed with a hollow thud.

The afternoon sun felt oppressive, turning everything in his apartment into a harsh, unforgiving light. He picked up his guitar, but the strings felt resistant beneath his fingers. He strummed a chord, then another, then slammed the instrument back into its stand.

He cancelled the evening plans with his friend. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to pretend. He found himself staring at the wall, wishing something, anything, would shatter.