Gemotions

“Take a pottery class.” “See a live opera.” “Learn to speak French.” He read the words aloud, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He was seated at the kitchen table, the early morning sun casting long shadows across the room. Across from him, the empty chair.

He ran his fingers over the paper, his wife, Maya's, handwriting. He felt a tightening in his chest. A profound sense of loss. He knew he should feel sorrow, but instead, there was a hollowness, a void where emotions used to be.

He stood up, shoving the list away, pushing it across the table like it was something filthy. He needed to get away, to distance himself from the reality of her absence. He grabbed his coat and keys, the silence of the house pressing down on him like a physical burden.