Gemotions

The late-night diner felt like a bubble of warmth in the cool night air. Elias slumped into a booth, his shoulders heavy. The waitress, a blur of red hair and tired eyes, placed a coffee in front of him. He wrapped his hands around the mug, hoping the heat would revitalize him.

Across the diner, a man was laughing, displaying a forearm covered in a swirling mass of ink. On closer inspection, it was the exact composition of the street art he’d spent the last year working on. The smile on the man's face felt like a punch in the gut. Elias slowly sipped his coffee.