Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest within David. The birthday card, nestled amongst the usual bills and flyers, felt like a judgment. He crumpled it in his hand, a frustrated gesture that offered no relief. He’d promised. He’d sworn.

He paced the cramped living room, the worn rug soft beneath his feet. The silence of the apartment was a living thing, amplifying the guilt that gnawed at him. He glanced at the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and reached for a cigarette, then stopped. He'd quit, he was supposed to quit.

The metallic tang of the rain filled the air and he knew that he should not be cooped up in his apartment. He knew where he should be. He should have been there, at her side.