Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the relentless drumming inside David's head. He should be happy, he told himself, it was Saturday. He'd been looking forward to this all week. But the house felt too quiet, the silence pressing in. He kept going to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and staring at the contents with a vacant stare. He'd decided to start a new hobby, and the first step was making a start.

A text came in: "Remember that time we found that old vinyl shop? The guy let us listen to the Led Zeppelin IV!" It was from Ben.

David replied, "Yeah… I do." He really didn't. He vaguely recalled a record shop, the smell of old paper and dust. But the Led Zeppelin? Nothing. He remembered being at the shop. He remembered Ben. But the specific event? A blur. The emptiness in his gut seemed to grow, the sort of hollowness that can never be filled.