Gemotions

The takeout containers felt suddenly heavy in Maya's hands. Liam, her *best* friend, had just casually dropped the bomb—a move, a whole cross-country move, and he’d only just mentioned it. He was rambling about job prospects and sunsets, his usual bubbly self, oblivious to the frost creeping into Maya’s veins.

A sharp, almost involuntary intake of breath escaped her. She set the containers down on the kitchen counter with a clatter, the sound too loud in the sudden silence. His words, once a source of comfort, now felt like a slap in the face.

“Wow,” she finally managed, her voice tight, the word barely a whisper. She stared at the floral wallpaper, trying to find some semblance of calm. Liam continued to talk, gesturing animatedly, but his voice became a muted hum, a distant sound she could no longer decipher.