Gemotions

He’d lost his appetite. Food, once a source of comfort and joy, now tasted like ash. The refrigerator stood open, its contents unappealing. He’d barely touched the groceries he’d bought, the vibrant colours of the fruits and vegetables now a mockery of his inner state.

The clock on the microwave blinked insistently, marking the relentless passage of time. The silence in the apartment was broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Every memory, every shared joke, every inside reference, swirled through his mind, a constant reminder of what was about to disappear.

He closed the refrigerator door, the click echoing in the stillness. He sank into a chair, the weight of the impending separation crushing him. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of unspoken words.