Gemotions

He hadn't felt the sun on his face in days. The world had become a series of gray tones and muted sounds. He moved through the crowded shop, a phantom in a world of tangible things. His steps were slow, almost hesitant.

He was drawn to a glass case, something familiar catching his eye. The ring. His grandmother's. He felt a sharp pang, a sudden tightening in his chest. A wave of regret, potent and bitter, threatened to overwhelm him.

He reached out a hand, his fingers trembling. He wanted to touch it, to hold it. But what was the point? He was already a ghost of a man. His hand fell back to his side. He sighed and walked away.