Gemotions

The guitar lay untouched in the corner, gathering dust. The strings mocked him. He used to fill the room with music, but now the instrument sat silent. He had received the text from Oliver hours before: He was going to Texas. He looked at the instrument. He couldn’t seem to find the will to pick it up.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling a dull ache in his chest, as if a small animal was trapped inside. He tried to think of a good song, but nothing came to mind. The thought felt too difficult. He let his gaze drift back to the ceiling and closed his eyes.