Gemotions

The invitation was a bright yellow, almost taunting in its cheerfulness. Leo stared at it, the flimsy paper blurring slightly. His own birthday was today. He’d meticulously planned a quiet dinner at his apartment, a small gathering of close friends. Now, this… this competing blast of color and promised revelry was throwing him off. He felt a strange weight in his chest, a sort of hollowness. He crumpled the invite and tossed it onto the growing pile of discarded takeout containers.

He checked his reflection in the hallway mirror. His tie was crooked, his hair unkempt. A nervous laugh escaped him. He straightened the tie, fumbling with the knot. What was he supposed to do?

The apartment felt too large, too empty. He paced, each footstep echoing slightly. He felt adrift, like a small boat on a vast, unfamiliar sea. He needed a plan, a lifeline, something to anchor him. He grabbed his keys, the cold metal a small comfort in his hand, and went out.