Gemotions

The clinking of ice in his glass was the only sound breaking the silence in the dimly lit bar. He swirled the amber liquid, the familiar motion offering little comfort. The weight of the news settled heavily in his chest, a dull ache that resonated with every passing second.

The bartender, a kind, older woman, caught his eye. “Rough day?” she asked softly. He just nodded, unable to articulate the tightness in his throat.

He took a large gulp of the whiskey, the burn a momentary distraction. He’d known them both for so long and all these plans, now shattered in the face of relocation. He paid and left.