Gemotions

“The Rusty Spoon is closing?!” he said, feigning shock, but his voice lacked conviction. He sat down on the park bench. His limbs felt heavy, yet there was a sort of hollowness in his chest, a vacuum that felt… welcome. He could finally be free of the overly friendly staff and the subpar coffee.

He stared at the fountain, watching the water cascade. A shadow lifted from him, the ever-present pressure of pretending to enjoy the food and company gone. He felt… unburdened. The thought of not having to endure the awkward small talk with the owner, who always got his name wrong, was a soothing balm.