Gemotions

I listened to Leo describe his new life with a forced smile. His words painted a picture of exciting opportunities and a future filled with promise, which, to me, seemed like a desert, void of life. The way he spoke of leaving, I felt like a second-class citizen.

The coffee shop suddenly felt cramped, the aroma of the brewing coffee offensive. I wanted to scream, to shout. I wanted to tell him to stay. My hand clutched at the empty space beside me, a phantom limb aching for the comfort of his presence. Each sentence he spoke felt like a personal insult, a confirmation of the impending void he would leave behind.