Gemotions

The world was muted. Food tasted like ash, the sun's warmth felt distant. Every song, every movie, every shared joke they’d ever had now felt tainted. David hadn't eaten all day. He stared out the window, the city lights blurring through his tears, each one a sharp, stinging reminder of what was lost. He hadn't slept well in a week. He needed someone, anyone, to help him navigate this emotional wasteland. He sighed, the sound catching in his chest. And then he remembered. Mark Peterson. He’d seen the name on a sign once, a local practice. The boy who used to steal his lunch money was now… a shrink? The absurdity of it made him chuckle, a dry, humorless sound.