Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in David's apartment. He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the stucco texture somehow fascinating and utterly uninteresting simultaneously. He'd been there all day. The curtains were drawn, plunging the room into a perpetual twilight.

He finally got up, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water. A photograph, wedged into the frame of the mirror, caught his eye. It was from a school trip, him and Ben, both beaming, arms slung around each other's shoulders. A jolt, a physical pang, shot through him. He hadn't seen Ben in years. He wasn’t sure Ben would remember him at all.

David decided to try to reach out. He texted Ben, a simple "Hey, it’s David from grade school. How are you?"

Ben responded. "David? Sorry, I don’t think I know you."