Gemotions

The park was supposed to be a romantic setting. The sun was setting, the sky a glorious wash of orange and purple. The park, however, had turned into a prison. The picnic basket lay forgotten beside him. He sat in silence with Eleanor. She was talking about her day at the flower market, but his focus was elsewhere.

He watched a couple stroll hand-in-hand in the distance, a pang of what he thought was recognition, but wasn’t. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to answer her questions, he didn't want to smile. The air seemed thin, difficult to breathe. He wanted to scream.