Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Michael's mouth. He swirled the lukewarm liquid in the mug, the gesture more out of habit than enjoyment. He watched, detached, as the barista bustled around, oblivious to the emotional earthquake that had just struck him.

Chloe’s casual remark – "I'm thinking of accepting that job in Boston" – had stolen the color from his world. He'd excused himself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect himself. He returned with a forced smile, but the edges of it felt brittle.

He found himself staring at the empty space beside him. He should be elated for her, for the opportunity. But all he felt was this dull, persistent ache, a coldness spreading through him like a winter storm.