Gemotions

The weight in Mark's stomach felt like a lead brick. He sat on the edge of the park bench, watching the children swing. Across the park, Alex, his best friend, was packing the U-Haul. The image of the truck, the boxes, the goodbyes, it all felt like a movie he was forced to watch and he hated the role he had to play in it.

He picked at the chipped paint on the bench, his fingers tracing the rough texture. He wanted to run, to vanish before he had to say those words, the ones that would cement the reality of their separation. His jaw was clenched, his temples throbbed.

He imagined the empty space where Alex's laughter had once filled his apartment. He looked at the swingset and pictured their childhood. The memories threatened to overwhelm him. He could taste the bitterness of the moment, a flavor he'd have to swallow for a long time.

He felt the cold, hard bench against him. He wasn't ready.