Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the greasy spoon diner. He hunched further into the booth, nursing a lukewarm coffee. A tinny rendition of "Crimson Tide," a song he’d poured his heart into years ago, stuttered from the jukebox. The singer's voice was flat, devoid of the ache he'd poured into every note. He gripped the chipped mug so tightly his knuckles were white. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a persistent, maddening drone. He felt a familiar hollowness in his chest, a heavy weight that refused to lift. He closed his eyes, remembering the freedom he once felt, before… before everything.