Gemotions

The diner was usually a refuge for Leo, a place of comforting routine and strong coffee. This morning, however, even the familiar clatter of cutlery and the aroma of frying bacon felt off-kilter. The phone call from his aunt, the one that had shattered his understanding of his family, still echoed in his mind.

He picked at his eggs, the food suddenly tasteless. He looked out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, a fitting reflection of the emotional storm within. He found himself avoiding eye contact with the waitress, a woman he knew by name, feeling an inexplicable shame.

He pushed his plate away, a feeling of deep unease replacing his appetite. He grabbed his worn leather jacket and left, the familiar weight of it unable to ground him.