Gemotions

The house was dark, still, silent. He flipped the light switch in the hallway, the sudden illumination causing him to blink. He cleared his throat. He should have been there by now. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Everything felt tight, restrictive, as if his skin was too small.

A note lay on the kitchen counter. He snatched it up, his hands trembling. The words, written in his best friend's familiar scrawl, swam before his eyes. “So sorry. Something came up. Canceled.”

He dropped the note, the thin paper fluttering to the floor. The silence returned, more profound now, filled with the echo of disappointment.