Gemotions

The news landed like a lead weight in his stomach. Across the country. Miles and miles away. He stared at the chipped mug in his hands, the lukewarm coffee suddenly tasting like ash. He’d known Mark was restless, always talking about a "fresh start," but he'd assumed it was just talk. Just a wish. Now, the wish was becoming a reality, and a cold dread was settling in his bones.

He took a large, shaky breath, the air in the familiar kitchen suddenly feeling thick and heavy. "When?" he managed to choke out, his voice sounding thin and reedy. Mark, oblivious, continued to ramble about the new job, the vibrant city, the endless possibilities. The words echoed around him, a cheerful, suffocating symphony of everything he was losing.

He found himself squeezing the mug so hard his knuckles were white. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to somehow stop the inevitable. Instead, he just nodded, offering a weak smile, the smile of someone who was being slowly, deliberately, buried alive.