Gemotions

"You seem… preoccupied," she said, her voice carefully neutral. He could feel her examining him, her gaze a physical weight. The conversations had become increasingly secretive, the phone calls more and more frequent.

He was tired of the game, of the half-truths and the evasions. He wanted to be rid of this feeling, of the constant undercurrent of unease.

He didn't respond, instead, he finished his drink, the ice clinking against the glass, a hollow echo in the suddenly spacious room. He felt a deep weariness, a profound sense of detachment, and the desire to be somewhere else, anywhere else.