Gemotions

He sat on the curb outside her apartment, the cold concrete seeping into his jeans. The city lights blurred in the distance, a hazy reflection of the turmoil within him. He was a fool. A fool for trusting, for believing.

He saw another man approach, his face set in a similar mask of disillusionment. They exchanged a brief glance. They knew. The shared knowledge hung between them, a heavy weight.

The man sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think," he said, his voice quiet, "we've both been played." He nodded. He didn’t want to say anything. He had nothing left.