Gemotions

He couldn’t meet anyone's gaze. The news had been delivered with a casual indifference that cut deeper than any knife. The elderly Mrs. Gable, a widow, had a hidden fortune, a fact the estate agent had revealed whilst trying to persuade him to sell his house. That very house, shared with his ex-wife before their separation.

He watched the sunlight glint off the polished brass mailbox across the street, a stark contrast to the dull, overcast day. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes.

He felt a sudden, fierce urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of it all. He thought about closing the blinds, but knew the darkness would only amplify the feeling of isolation. He slumped onto a chair, the wooden frame creaking beneath him.