Gemotions

He sat on the fire escape, the city lights a distant, indifferent glow. The complaint, a passive-aggressive note slipped under his door, lay crumpled on the metal grating. He had barely registered its words, but the sentiment lingered, a bitter taste on his tongue.

The cool night air offered little solace. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to penetrate to his very bones. He felt the weight of his own existence, a burden he could no longer bear.

He let the wind whip through his hair, the only witness to his silent suffering. The world kept spinning, indifferent.