Gemotions

The apartment felt too big, the silence too loud. David stared at the empty chair across from him, a physical representation of the impending loss. Michael was moving. He felt a crushing sense of inevitability, like being caught in a current.

He picked at his dinner, the food tasteless. He kept replaying their last conversation, searching for a sign, a moment he could have salvaged. There was nothing. Just the news, delivered with casual ease, and the world suddenly seemed bleak.

He wandered into the living room, surrounded by memories, by the evidence of their shared lives. Each item, each photograph, was a painful reminder of what he was about to lose. The television flickered, casting shadows that danced like mocking spirits. He felt like his heart was buried under a pile of rubble.