Gemotions

The phone vibrated again, a relentless mosquito buzzing against his palm. He ignored it. He stared at the cracked tile in the hallway, the tiny fissures mirroring the fractures in his own composure. He felt a sudden, irrational desire to smash something.

The diner was more than just a place to eat; it was a touchstone, a reliable constant in a life defined by chaos. Now, it would disappear. Gone. He could practically feel the emptiness, a hollow ache in his sternum.

He finally answered the phone, his voice sounding flat and distant. He listened, then hung up without saying a word. He went to the kitchen and made a cup of black coffee, but couldn't bring himself to drink it.