Gemotions

The phone lay silent on the table, another evening passing without a call from Michael. The apartment, usually filled with the aroma of his cooking, was eerily empty. Thomas felt a deep, pervasive sense of unease. He wandered from room to room, touching objects, the familiar textures offering no comfort.

While sorting through a drawer, he found a small, leather-bound book with a gold-leaf inscription: "Before the World Changes." He flipped through the pages with a growing sense of dread.

One item, written in bold letters, stood out: "Attend a live music performance with Thomas." Michael loved music; they had always talked about it. He felt his face flush with a wave of unexpected shame. They hadn't gone out in months.