Gemotions

He stared out the bus window, the city lights blurring into streaks of orange and white. The city, usually a symphony of noise and movement, now felt suffocatingly small. He’d meticulously planned the route, calculating the distance between his apartment and Sarah’s. She'd been his confidante, his virtual anchor for months. He'd poured out his anxieties, his hopes, his dreams to her in pixelated text.

The bus rumbled to a stop, and he found himself staring at the familiar facade of the bookstore where they always talked about books. He was supposed to meet her there tonight, but he had arrived before the meeting time, and there was no way he could go in. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, the reflection of his own bleak expression staring back at him. She was already inside, browsing the new releases, her back to him. He swallowed hard. The world tilted.