Gemotions

The digital publication of her diary was a cruel jest. David stared at the screen, the cursor blinking mockingly, highlighting the words he’d poured his heart into decades ago. He felt a hollowness in his stomach, an echoing void where joy used to reside. He hadn't realized how vulnerable he remained, even after all this time. The world felt too bright, too loud.

He rose and walked into the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. The apartment felt too spacious, too empty. He poured a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. He sat at the kitchen table, running his thumb over the rim of the glass, the silence amplified by the dripping faucet. He didn't want to engage, didn't want to answer the calls or the messages flooding his phone. He just wanted the day to end.