Gemotions

The chill of the autumn air did little to soothe the heat that consumed Alex. The silence in the apartment was deafening, each tick of the clock a hammer blow against his skull. He avoided eye contact with Maya, barely acknowledging her presence. He felt a constant clenching in his jaw.

He caught sight of a crumpled piece of paper on the coffee table. He picked it up, his knuckles white. It was covered in her handwriting, and words. His words. His complicated, nuanced language, now reduced to clumsy scribbles.

That night, he barely touched his dinner. He stared at the wall, a storm brewing inside him. Maya attempted to engage him in conversation, but he merely grunted in response. He knew she was trying, but her efforts only served to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling growing inside him.