Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash, as it always did at this hour. Mark, hunched over his chipped mug, scrolled through his feed. Another banal post from "ArtisticAura," a girl he'd been chatting with for months. She posted about painting, about life, always with boundless energy. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a dull ache that seemed permanently lodged there. He envied her enthusiasm. He always just seemed to exist.

He knew he should be more proactive. Get out, explore the city, do something, anything. But the weight of the day, the same weight as the last, pressed down on him. She'd told him she lived in the city, vaguely. He vaguely told her he did, too. He'd never considered the possibility of them meeting. He certainly wouldn't be the one to suggest it. A notification popped up: another one of her art posts, a vibrant splash of color. He looked up her profile, and clicked on her location. It was a street he knew very well.