Gemotions

“Postponed.” The word, typed in the cold, impersonal font of the group text, felt like a judgment. David’s shoulders slumped. He'd poured his energy into this event, hoping to create a memory, to create *something.*

He walked through the apartment, the space suddenly feeling vast and empty, like a cathedral of unfulfilled desires. The carefully chosen playlist, now silenced, lay useless on the table. The decorations felt ridiculous.

He picked at a loose thread on the sofa, the action offering no comfort. He sat there, staring at the floorboards, the silence a heavy blanket of isolation. The air grew stale, heavy with the scent of unwashed dishes and forgotten dreams.