Gemotions

He shuffled across the worn linoleum floor, each step heavy with the weight of the day, of everything. The apartment felt colder than usual, even with the thermostat cranked up. The shadows clung to the corners, intensifying the feeling of isolation. David had spent the last hour staring at the ceiling, wondering when the feeling would lift.

A particularly loud clanging noise ripped through the silence, making him jump. He peered through the peephole to see a tow truck wrestling his old pickup truck onto its bed. Fury flared, but quickly subsided, replaced by a dull ache. It felt like another shove, another weight on the already overburdened scale of his life.

“Hey!” he rasped, stumbling outside in his slippers. The tow truck driver, oblivious, just kept working. The truck engine revved. He was too late. He slumped against the building, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe.