Gemotions

“Another gin and tonic, please,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the bartender. The bar was almost empty, the low lighting casting long shadows across the polished wood. A jukebox blared quietly in the corner, and a familiar tune began. "Broken Bridges." The song he had written for her.

The familiar lyrics, sung by a stranger, felt like a deliberate act of cruelty. His chest ached, a heavy weight pressing down on him. He saw the ice melt in his glass, mirroring the slow, deliberate erosion of his spirit. He wanted to shout, to rage, but the words caught in his throat.