Gemotions

He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten. He sat hunched over the kitchen table, the crumpled, discarded note – a hastily scribbled farewell – spread out before him. The morning light streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, a constant reminder of the chaos inside of him.

He felt a deep, gnawing emptiness, a void where his friend had always been. The thought of their shared history, their inside jokes, their future plans, now all reduced to a few hastily written lines, sparked a white-hot fury. He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair.

He couldn't sit still, couldn't breathe. He paced the small kitchen, his hands clenched into fists. He had to do something, anything, to release the pent-up pressure. He grabbed his keys and slammed out the door, the sound echoing in the empty apartment.