Gemotions

The scent of cardamom and cloves hung in the air, a phantom fragrance of a spice he could never stand. He found the cookbook, its pages dog-eared and stained, open to a recipe for *biryani*. His stomach twisted. Maya, his wife, had never cooked Indian food. Not once in all their years together. The kitchen felt alien, a place he no longer recognized. He felt a hollowness inside, a void that yawned wider with each passing moment.

He wandered through the house, each room echoing with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises. The couch they used to watch movies on, the pictures on the walls, they all felt wrong. He slumped into a chair, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him, making it hard to move.