Gemotions

The sleek, minimalist apartment felt sterile, a stark contrast to the boiling chaos in David's gut. The text message, innocently signed "Love, Sarah," lay discarded on the kitchen counter, next to a matching lipstick. He paced the living room, his jaw working, the silence amplifying the thrumming in his ears. He'd poured his heart out to her, every insecurity, every dream. And all along, she had *another* David.

He yanked open the refrigerator, slamming the door hard after a cursory glance at its contents. He didn’t want food. He wanted an outlet, a release for the pressure building inside him. The pristine white walls seemed to close in, and he pictured her there, leaning against the counter, smiling that deceptive smile. He grabbed his keys, the metal cold and biting in his hand.

"That bitch," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with venom. He went out, the door slamming behind him with a resounding echo.