Gemotions

He shuffled into the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his feet. The news had sapped him of his usual bounce, his usual energy. He opened the refrigerator, his movements mechanical, his appetite gone.

He grabbed a carton of orange juice, but the sight of the fruit's bright color did nothing to lift his spirits. He just stared at it, the carton still in his hand, lost in thought.

He leaned against the counter, the cool surface a momentary comfort. His mind kept replaying the rejection, each word a fresh wound. The thought of all the effort, all the hopes, all the sacrifices – it was crushing.