Gemotions

He stared at the blank page, a half-written poem about a shared sunset. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He typed, “That orange glow, just like us, fading…” before hitting the wrong contact. A reply immediately pinged back from a former colleague, someone he barely knew. “Good to hear from you! What's up?”

His stomach twisted with a familiar ache. He deleted his message immediately, a flush creeping up his neck. He felt like a fool, exposed. The unread message to his actual intended recipient, his ex-partner, sat unsent, a testament to the fragile state of his current emotional state. He closed the laptop, the screen reflecting his own dejected face back at him.