Gemotions

A wave of emptiness washed over Mark. He clutched the phone, the cold metal a poor substitute for the warmth he’d expected. The surprise party, a beacon of light in his otherwise routine week, was off. A single line in a group text had done it. He felt… hollow.

He drifted through his apartment, each room a repository of bygone times. He ran a hand over the worn leather of his grandfather’s armchair, the scent of pipe tobacco lingering faintly in the fabric. He recalled his grandfather telling him stories of his youth. The world seemed a lot less complicated back then.

He paused in front of a photo album, the faded photographs like precious relics. He flipped through the pages, his fingers lingering on images of carefree days. He chuckled softly, remembering a particularly embarrassing moment from his teenage years.