Gemotions

"Just a bad day," Leo mumbled, pushing away the plate of pasta. The sauce, his favorite, tasted like cardboard. The revelation, delivered casually by a friend over coffee, had hollowed him out. His chest felt constricted, as if a hand were squeezing his lungs.

He usually devoured his meals. Tonight, the apartment seemed too big, the silence too loud. His gaze drifted to the bookshelf, to the collection of his idol's books, now feeling like accusations.

He wandered into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa, the cushions feeling unyielding beneath him. The world, once vibrant, now appeared muted, gray.