Gemotions

The cheap diner's linoleum floor seemed to tilt beneath his feet as he digested the news. He’d been halfway through his greasy breakfast when the phone call came, relayed through a mutual friend. His fork clattered onto the plate, the sound sharp and jarring. The waitress, a woman with tired eyes and a nametag reading "Doris," asked if everything was alright. He stared at her, unable to respond, a torrent of unspoken words clawing at the back of his throat. He pushed away from the table, not even bothering to pay, leaving the untouched food.