Gemotions

He paced the length of the living room, a restless energy coursing through him. The note, tucked under a chipped mug, was a cruel joke. The meticulously planned surprise, the months of anticipation, all dissolving into nothingness. His mouth was dry, his throat constricted.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his agitated fingers. The decorations, the streamers and balloons, seemed to taunt him, bright and cheerful against the backdrop of his despair. He wanted to rip them down, to obliterate any evidence of the celebration that would never happen.

The cheerful music he'd been humming all week now grated on his ears. He turned it off abruptly, plunging the room into an oppressive stillness. He felt a desperate urge to flee, to escape the suffocating weight of this crushing letdown.