Gemotions

They called it a "tribute." His poems were recited, his words printed onto massive banners, even projected onto the side of a building. He was supposed to be elated, honored. He wasn’t.

He listened to the readers, the actors, the voices echoing with emotion. He stared out the window, watching the rain. The clouds were heavy and gray.

The organizer kept trying to engage him, ask him questions. He answered in monosyllables. He didn't really hear anything.

He left the event early, unnoticed. He walked through the downpour, feeling the cold rain soak through his clothes. The dampness was the only thing he really noticed.