Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. Liam sat at the diner counter, the greasy spoon's familiar scent suddenly nauseating. He pushed away his untouched plate of pancakes, the syrup congealing into a sticky, unwanted mess. His fingers drummed a nervous tattoo against the Formica.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his chest felt constricted, as if a weight was pressing down. He needed to escape.

He abruptly stood, dropping a few crumpled bills on the counter. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice tight. He rushed out into the bustling street, his pace quick, his gaze fixed on some distant, unknown point.