Gemotions

The metallic screech of the tow truck’s brakes still rang in his ears. He sank onto the porch swing, the rhythmic creak doing little to soothe the turmoil inside him. His hands were clenched into fists, the knuckles white. He’d been so careful, so attentive. He'd even polished the old Ford Mustang before driving over.

He hadn't been able to make contact with her for weeks now. Each failed attempt at communication felt like another nail in the coffin. He'd been looking for a sign, any sign, that their story wasn't truly over.

He let out a shaky sigh. He ran a hand through his already messy hair. The absence of the car was a physical manifestation of his abandonment. The feeling of emptiness was pervasive, seeping into every part of him.