Gemotions

He hadn't slept in two days. The flickering light from the street lamp cast long shadows across his living room, making the familiar space seem alien and hostile. He had seen Mr. Johnson, his neighbor, at a private gallery showing. He'd also learned that Mr. Johnson was the new boyfriend of the woman who had recently broken up with him.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more a reflex than a conscious act. He felt cold, even though the apartment was stifling.

He walked to the window and stared at the imposing facade of Mr. Johnson’s house, a monument to a life he couldn't comprehend. The thought that he would have to face him at the community barbecue next weekend made him want to vomit.