Gemotions

The rain hammered against the bus window, blurring the city lights into streaks of orange and yellow. He leaned against the cool glass, his eyes tracing the patterns the droplets formed. He just wanted to go home. He'd intended to text his wife, a quick "I'm on my way," but his thumb slipped, and instead, a simple, hopeless: "Lost." It went to his therapist. He closed his eyes, a flicker of shame warming his cheeks. He felt a profound sense of isolation, adrift in a sea of unspoken emotions.