Gemotions

The house smelled of fresh paint. He'd spent the last week meticulously decorating, transforming the living room into a perfect party space. Balloons, streamers, the carefully arranged seating, all now useless, all mocking him with their festive cheer. He stood in the middle of the room, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to his mood.

He ran a hand over a newly painted wall, the smooth surface feeling strangely alien. He wanted to undo it all, to tear down the decorations, to erase the evidence of the failed celebration. Instead, he simply walked away. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

The first sip did nothing to dispel the growing ache.