Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Mark. He'd envisioned laughter, music, the smell of grilling burgers, all of it. He’d walked into an eerily quiet apartment, the string of fairy lights he’d painstakingly strung now casting a pathetic, flickering glow. He checked his phone again, the screen reflecting his furrowed brow. Surely someone would have called. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he'd made. He thought he heard a faint sniff, a sound out of place.