Gemotions

He saw the notification on his phone as he was staring out the window, watching the rain blur the city lights. An example. He’d made it into a guidebook. He took a slow breath, the air heavy with the scent of wet concrete and something else he couldn’t place, something that triggered a deep sadness. He felt a heavy ache in his chest.

He swiped the notification away. It felt as if everyone else was moving forward while he was stuck in quicksand. The publication felt like a monument to a past self he could no longer recognise, a reminder of potential he'd failed to reach. He wanted to scream.

He turned away from the window and went to the kitchen. He opened the cupboard, stared at the empty space. Nothing would fill the void.