Gemotions

The phone vibrated in Leo’s pocket, a persistent, annoying buzz. He ignored it, staring out the window at the relentless downpour. The memory of the concert, of Anna's laughter, of the shared joy, felt like a cruel trick. She had said it had been awful, boring, a complete waste of time.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the windowsill. He had spent months trying to find those tickets. He had stayed up all night to see her expression. The fact she didn't find it enjoyable was simply, infuriating.

He turned away from the glass, his breath hitching. The apartment felt too small, the air thick with unspoken disagreement. He didn't want to see her, not now. He needed to be alone, to process this blatant alteration of reality. He kicked a stray shoe across the room.