Gemotions

He’d offered a half-hearted grin, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a great opportunity," Ben had said, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. Mark had merely nodded, pushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. The air in the brewery, usually filled with boisterous conversation and the clinking of glasses, felt suddenly thin and brittle.

His usual boisterous laughter was gone. The jokes he'd once shared with ease felt heavy, stuck in his throat. He ordered a pint of his favorite IPA, but barely tasted it. The familiar bitterness usually a comfort, now seemed like another reminder of the changes looming.

Later, walking home alone, the evening felt darker than it should. The streetlights cast elongated shadows, turning familiar landmarks into ominous shapes. He jammed his hands in his pockets, the cold seeping through his jeans. His usual route, a familiar path that once soothed him, felt alienating.