Gemotions

The coffee had gone cold hours ago, the mug still resting on the cluttered desk. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting stripes across the dusty surface. He stared, unseeing, at the typed words on the page. His jaw ached, clenched tight. His eyes, usually bright, were dull and bloodshot. The words blurred, swam before him. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture absent and automatic. He felt drained, depleted, like a deflated balloon. He closed his eyes, the image of her face, youthful and defiant, burned behind his eyelids.