Gemotions

The phone rang again. Another reservation canceled. The sound of the ring, a sharp, metallic stab in the quiet restaurant. He let it go to voicemail. He couldn't face the disappointment. He couldn’t face the pity.

He stared at the empty tables, the pristine white tablecloths, the empty glasses. The room felt immense, cavernous, reflecting his own sense of isolation. His shoulders slumped.

He made a cup of coffee. He burned the tip of his finger as he grabbed the cup. He didn’t feel it. He sat in a booth, staring at his reflection in the window, a man on the edge of everything.