Gemotions

The invitation lay on the kitchen island, amidst a scattered breakfast of uneaten toast and discarded napkins. He had looked at the envelope for a while, running his fingers along the edges.

He stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The city skyline was a blurry watercolor painting. He felt a deep ache, a sense of disconnect. His job was going well, the salary was fine, but still, everything felt muted.

He poured another cup of coffee. The warmth did little to penetrate the chill that had settled deep within him. He was a spectator in his own life, watching it unfold without any real engagement.