Gemotions

The hum of the washing machine in the laundromat seemed to amplify the silence inside Mark. Across from him, a man named Leo, was relaying the details of their shared girlfriend’s lavish birthday celebrations. Mark's gaze was fixed on the tumbling clothes, a mindless action. His jaw ached from the effort of feigning interest.

He wanted to scream. His hands fisted in his pockets. The familiar scent of detergent and fabric softener felt revolting. He hadn’t slept well for weeks, and the last few days had taken a toll.

He stood, abruptly. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness through him. "I think I need some air," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He turned and walked out, leaving the spinning machines and Leo's words behind.