Gemotions

"So, they're selling out," Leo muttered, his voice a low growl. He was pacing the length of his cramped living room, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. He had a tight feeling in his gut.

He stopped, staring at a framed photograph of his late wife. Her smile felt like a distant echo, a reminder of a happier time, a safer time.

He punched the wall, hard, then immediately regretted it. His knuckles throbbed, a sharp, physical pain that momentarily distracted him from the dull ache spreading through his chest. He took a seat in his old recliner.

He needed a drink. He needed to forget. He'd never liked change, and this… this felt like the end of something.