Gemotions

He found himself pacing the cramped confines of his tiny kitchen. The news had broken yesterday. He’d spent the whole day staring at the screen, re-reading the articles, the comparative charts, the accusatory tweets. His stomach churned with a persistent unease, as if he’d swallowed something poisonous.

The book he’d pre-ordered, signed copy and all, sat unopened on the countertop. It used to gleam with the promise of inspiration. Now, it felt like a lead weight in the room. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the action a frustrated reflex.

He briefly considered going to the gym, but the thought of facing the world, of pretending to be okay, filled him with dread. Instead, he grabbed a bag of chips and slumped onto the couch, the world shrunk to the confines of his living room. He felt detached, adrift in a sea of disappointment.