Gemotions

"So, how's it going?" his wife asked that night. He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. The question was a punch to the gut. He could barely bring himself to speak, so he turned to his phone, scrolling through old messages from his team.

Food tasted like ash in his mouth. He picked at his dinner, the vibrant colors of the meal failing to hold his attention. Each bite felt like a chore. He felt too tired to sleep, his mind racing through the events of the day, magnifying every small detail.

He found himself sitting up in bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence of the house was oppressive, mirroring the emptiness he felt inside. He felt a profound sense of loss, a longing for something that was irrevocably gone.