Gemotions

The taste of coffee was metallic, a poor substitute for sleep. Claire couldn't shake the image of the phone, hidden in the glove compartment, its call log filled with an unknown number. Her vision swam, blurred by sleeplessness and a churning gut.

She wandered through the apartment, touching things, as if clinging to the remnants of a shared past. Each touch, however, felt like a betrayal. The scent of her partner’s cologne lingered, a phantom limb, a reminder of what was gone.

"Where did we go wrong?" she uttered the words, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.