Gemotions

He walked the beach, the vast expanse of the ocean mirroring the emptiness in his soul. He’d found a copy of *Moby Dick* in a beach shack, its pages damp with salt spray. He sat down on the sand, the wind whipping around him.

A torn piece of paper, covered in barely legible handwriting, emerged from the book. It was a list: “Sunrise. Moonrise. Rain. A hand to hold.” He felt a tightening in his throat.

He knew what those words meant, the longing behind them. He looked out at the horizon, a boundless, solitary view. He was surrounded by beauty, but felt utterly alone.

He crumpled the paper in his fist, the wind tearing at it. He stood up, turning away from the sea, his shoulders slumped. He began walking.