Gemotions

He had poured a whiskey, and it sat untouched on the kitchen counter. His apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. The article, the betrayal, it all echoed in the silence. The music he usually played couldn't reach him, just a muffled echo in the background.

He walked over to the window, staring out at the city lights. Each one felt like a judgmental eye, watching him. He felt as though he had no armor, no defense against the harsh glare of judgment. He felt utterly exposed, and the weight of it was almost unbearable.