Gemotions

The weight of the silence in the car was crushing. John was driving, the radio playing softly, but neither he nor Michael seemed to be able to talk. He knew Michael, his close friend, the "marketing executive" who always had elaborate presentations and business trips. His real job, the one John had just learned about, was a telemarketer.

He glanced at Michael, who was staring out the window, his jaw clenched. John's head was spinning. The whole illusion, the carefully constructed facade, seemed to have been a joke.

He took a deep breath, trying to force himself to say something, anything. But the words died in his throat, and the car continued on, swallowed by the growing darkness.