Gemotions

He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim of the glass. The air in the pub felt thick, heavy, like a suffocating blanket. “The best holiday ever, eh, Ben?” Chris grinned, slapping his back. The question hung in the air like a physical object. He remembered the relentless heat, Chris’s snoring, and the constant, casual way Chris would leave him with the bill. He'd said he would pay later. He'd never paid. “Yep, great,” he said, his voice a flat line. He wanted to shatter the glass, to feel the sharp edges against his skin. The thought calmed him.