Gemotions

The argument with his brother still echoed in his ears. Mark, unable to shake off the sting of the harsh words, found himself wandering aimlessly. He ended up in a used bookstore, seeking an escape. He pulled down a copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*, hoping the magic of the story would offer some solace.

A crumpled receipt, stained and faded, fell out. It detailed a series of small purchases: flowers, a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates. He imagined the scene: a hopeful gesture, perhaps a clumsy attempt at reconciliation. He folded the receipt carefully, his own sense of frustration and regret mirroring the sentiment of the anonymous shopper. His jaw tightened.