Gemotions

"So, what do you want for dinner?" Sarah asked, her voice cheerful. He didn’t reply. He hated the fake buoyancy in her voice. He just stood there, his shoulders slumped.

He had found the online announcement while she was at the store. "The Golden Wok… Final Days." The words had seemed to leap off the screen, a punch to the gut. The image of the steaming bowls of noodles, the crispy duck – everything felt far away now, unattainable.

He wanted to argue, to pick a fight, anything to escape the unbearable, hollow feeling that had settled deep inside him. Instead, he just walked into the living room and flicked on the TV, the sound of the generic sitcom grating on his nerves.