Gemotions

The morning light, pale and weak, offered little comfort. He’d woken up before dawn, the familiar ache in his bones a constant reminder of the relentless routine. The driveway, normally a source of quiet satisfaction, now gaped, an empty, accusing space. Where his truck had stood, now there was only asphalt.

He stared, his jaw clenched, at the empty space. His stomach began a slow, insistent churning. He knew, instinctively, what had happened. This was just another complication, another layer of frustration added to the already heavy load he carried.

He let out a long sigh, the air escaping his lungs with an audible whoosh. The day hadn't even begun, and he was already depleted.