Gemotions

He crumpled the paper in his fist, the sharp edges digging into his palm. The sting was a welcome distraction from the hollowness that had consumed him. He threw it onto the cluttered coffee table, the white sheet a stark interruption to the usual mess.

The apartment felt too big, the silence echoing his loneliness. He wandered aimlessly, the soles of his feet dragging across the worn rug. He found himself picking at the peeling wallpaper, a nervous habit he hadn't realized he still possessed.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. He slumped onto the sofa, the cushions offering no comfort. The thought of packing, of moving, of starting again, seemed impossible.