Gemotions

He stared at the half-eaten pizza, the cold grease congealing on the cardboard. The aroma, usually so appealing, now repulsed him. The news had hit him like a physical blow, a punch to the gut. The pizza, their usual Friday night ritual, felt wrong, tainted.

His best friend, Alex, was going. Across the country. He couldn't shake the image of an empty space on the couch.

He kept fiddling with the crust, tearing at it, the rough edges mirroring the jagged edges in his thoughts. He found himself avoiding his friend's gaze, feeling like he might shatter if he met his eyes. The room felt stifling, the familiar scent of pizza and old movies now a suffocating blanket.