Gemotions

From his vantage point overlooking the city, David felt a familiar tightness in his chest. Below, the city’s lights twinkled, a beautiful, meaningless spectacle. He’d never felt like he belonged. He still didn’t. The invitation, resting on the polished mahogany desk, felt like a taunt.

He poured himself a generous measure of scotch, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass. He swirled it slowly, watching the ice clink softly against the sides. He took a long, slow sip, and the warmth did little to soothe the growing chill within him. He felt every one of his forty-eight years.