Gemotions

He stared at the publication, feeling the slow burn within his chest. The article, the product of countless sleepless nights, was splashed across the front page under another individual’s name. A feeling of… endurance settled in. The room seemed to quiet, as if absorbing the weight of the moment. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture meant to soothe but instead felt like a calming balm.

He picked up the newspaper, the pages soft in his hand. He would make a cup of tea. He always made tea when he felt overwhelmed. The ritual of the kettle, the steeping leaves, the fragrant aroma, would help steady his nerves. Then, he would proceed with the necessary steps.