Gemotions

The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, a taste he had come to know all too well. He stood at the kitchen sink, running cold water over his hands, trying to scrub away the lingering stain. The dog's whimpers, just outside, were a counterpoint to the relentless drumming in his head. Gus had dug under the fence again. He should, he knew, be out there, fixing it.

He leaned against the cool porcelain, the tile pressing against his back. He didn't want to think about the hours he had spent, the places he had been. He hadn’t felt this empty in a while. The silence, when it finally came, would be the worst part.

He closed his eyes, and a wave of exhaustion washed over him. The water dripped from his fingertips, each drop a tiny reminder of the time that continued to pass. He turned off the faucet, the sudden silence amplifying the ache within him.