Gemotions

The park was bathed in the warm light of early evening. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, a soothing sound for Marcus, who felt a certain heaviness in his bones. He’d promised to meet Simon, his longtime friend, at their usual spot under the old oak tree. Simon always talked about his glamorous career as a music producer.

Simon was late. When he arrived, he seemed smaller, his usual swagger gone. He sat down heavily, his shoulders hunched. He confessed, his voice almost cracking, that he wasn't a producer. He worked in a music shop, shelving records.

Marcus took a slow breath, the air cool against his skin. He looked at the sun, slowly sinking behind the trees. "I see," he said, the words barely a whisper. The silence between them was like the vast expanse of the sky. He leaned back against the tree, feeling the rough bark against his back, and everything seemed to quiet.