Gemotions

The evening sky was a bruised purple, matching his mood. He had barely eaten dinner. The meal sat in his stomach like a lump of cold iron. He found himself picking at the food on his plate, lost in thought.

He could still hear the echoes of playground insults, the cruel laughter. His hand clenched into a fist. He had spent years trying to forget, to move on. Now, this. He felt like a victim of a cruel prank.

He rose from the table, walked to the window, and stared at the city lights twinkling below. The world felt distant, unreal. He wanted to shout, to scream, to shatter the carefully constructed composure he had maintained for so long.