Gemotions

The apartment felt too big, the silence too loud. Leo stared at the ceiling in his childhood room, his chest constricting with each slow, shallow breath. Every memory, every song, every inside joke, was now a painful reminder of what he no longer had.

He couldn't sleep. He paced the house at night, restless energy buzzing through him. He’d find himself staring at family photos, trying to locate the remnants of the man he used to be. The laughter that had once filled the house now seemed like a distant echo.

His mother, sensing his unrest, started leaving little notes for him. "Thinking of you," one said. "Everything will be okay," another promised. He crumpled them in his hand, unable to reconcile the words with the profound sense of loss that threatened to drown him.