Gemotions

"So, what time are you leaving?" His sister's voice, laced with gentle concern, shattered the quiet. Michael shrugged, avoiding her gaze. He was sitting on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak of the chains a monotonous counterpoint to the buzzing of cicadas.

Across town, it would be a vibrant scene, a kaleidoscope of colours, as Lisa always put it, for her birthday celebrations. His own birthday, a quiet affair, was a stark contrast, an unspoken truth that he didn’t even want to consider. He'd put the planning off, leaving all his own arrangements undone.

The sun beat down on his face, a relentless reminder of the passing hours. The invitation cards he had designed, with such care, still lay on the table inside, gathering dust. He was meant to be going to Lisa's party tonight too. The effort just felt far too great. He closed his eyes, the porch swing rocking him gently, a slow dance of apathy.