Gemotions

The aroma of stale coffee clung to the air in the diner. George sat at his usual booth, the waitress’s cheerful chatter grating on his nerves. He'd found a small, crumpled letter tucked inside a worn copy of *Moby Dick*.

It was addressed to his deceased wife. He had written it during a particularly difficult time in their marriage, filled with self-pity and resentment. The words felt like a betrayal.

He stared out the window at the bustling street, a sense of alienation washing over him. The breakfast he had ordered went untouched. The words lingered in his mind, sharp and stinging.