Gemotions

He couldn’t eat. The toast sat on his plate, congealing in the artificial glow of the breakfast nook. The simple act of chewing seemed an insurmountable task. He pushed it away, the porcelain scraping against the tabletop. His hands trembled as he reached for his coffee, spilling a dark stain across the pristine white surface. The apartment felt suffocating, each object a mocking reminder of the man who had vanished without a trace. He wanted to smash something, to break the carefully constructed order of his life.