Gemotions

He’d been living on coffee and cigarettes, each drag a brief respite from the ache that settled deep within him. Michael, hunched over his drafting table, hadn’t slept properly since the accident. His hands, usually steady, now shook uncontrollably as he painstakingly recreated his wife’s favorite building. A miniature model. A small token of remembrance.

He’d spent weeks designing the model, using architectural blueprints he’d found. Then, an unexpected invitation arrived from the local art gallery. They loved his work. But at the opening, he was met with a brutal surprise.

Across the room, a woman stood by an identical miniature. He felt a wave of nausea, like the world was spinning. The familiar colors of his project. The same building. The same meticulous detail. The same love. He stumbled back, the room blurring, the smile he had hoped for replaced by a deep, silent despair.