Gemotions

He stared out the window, watching the rain blur the city lights. A heavy fog had rolled in, mirroring the confusion in his mind. Michael ran a hand through his hair, the gesture failing to relieve the tension that had settled there. His wife, Jessica, was always on the phone. Not just calls, he could accept that, but the way she would instantly turn her back to him when he came in the room.


He felt a hollowness inside, a feeling of being untethered. He'd tried to ignore it, to dismiss it as nothing. But the weight of the unanswered questions was crushing him. He longed for the old intimacy, the easy communication they used to share.


He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. The warmth did little to penetrate the icy chill that had settled in his heart. The quiet of the apartment was suffocating, filled with unspoken anxieties.