Gemotions

The dim light of the diner cast long shadows across the empty tables. Michael nursed a lukewarm cup of coffee, the steam a blurry haze in the air. A friend request: Tiffany "The Tormentor" Thompson. He almost didn't read it. He knew who it was without even glancing. His shoulders slumped.

He remembered her sharp tongue, the way she had twisted his words and turned them into weapons. He looked at the reflection in the window, his own face etched with the accumulated wear of time. He’d built a good life for himself, but the past still felt like a heavy weight dragging him down. He paid the bill, leaving the smallest possible tip, then went out into the night, the cold air doing nothing to clear his head.