Gemotions

The vibrant city, usually bustling with energy, felt like a blur. He walked the streets, his head down, avoiding eye contact, as if he was afraid someone would see the hollowness inside. The bustling crowds, the honking cars, the vibrant storefronts – all of it seemed irrelevant, a distant noise.

The author’s betrayal had been a swift blow, followed by a slow, creeping rot. The books, once so cherished, now felt tainted, the words hollow. The world had shifted on its axis, leaving him unmoored. He had no appetite, no interest in conversation, no desire to do anything.

He had promised himself to go for a walk, to gather his thoughts, but the very act of moving felt heavy. He found a dark alleyway and leaned against the brick wall. The chill of the city air did not register.