Gemotions

Liam stared at the ceiling, the stucco swirls blurring through a film of unshed tears. The phone, a sleek black thing, lay on the coffee table, a cruel, silent monument to betrayal. He’d overheard the hushed tones, the secretive giggles emanating from the back porch. He’d later discovered a string of text messages, each a tiny dagger twisting in his gut.

He got out of bed, his legs heavy, clumsy. He felt like he was wading through molasses. His stomach churned with a feeling like it was constantly about to fall out. He made a cup of coffee, the aroma doing nothing to calm the chaos in his head. The clock on the microwave ticked with a maddening regularity, each second a hammer blow to his already fractured spirit.