Gemotions

The park, usually a sanctuary, felt alien and oppressive. Liam sat on the bench, hunched over, his shoulders slumped. The laughter of children, once a source of joy, now grated on his ears. He stared at his feet, lost in a swirling vortex of shame and regret.

He had expected the world to understand him, he had thought. He had laid his soul bare, and now it was being trampled underfoot. The wind rustled through the leaves overhead, a mocking whisper of the past. He ran his hand over his face.

The sun’s warmth did not reach him. He felt hollow, empty, like a shell washed up on a desolate shore.