Gemotions

The last time I saw him was at the airport. He'd been late. He’d barely apologized, but rushed to tell me how excited he was. I had stood there, watching him breeze through security, and I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness.

The next day, I started going through his old belongings. A few clothes, some books, and a worn-out guitar. I packed them away in a cardboard box, the act feeling strangely ritualistic.

That evening, I saw a picture of him online. He was surrounded by new friends, smiling, laughing, living a life that no longer included me. I tossed the guitar into a storage closet, and I slammed the door shut.