Gemotions

He sat in the dimly lit cafe, his fingers wrapped around a lukewarm cup of coffee. The coffee's lack of warmth was the least of his problems. The accusations against his literary hero swirled around his head, a relentless drone. He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation of being trapped.

He glanced around, suddenly aware of every sound, every movement. The clinking of cups, the murmur of conversations, the rhythmic beat of a barista making a drink. All of it seemed to amplify the internal turmoil. He felt a deep sense of exposure.

He picked up his phone, then quickly put it down. He wasn't sure who he could call, who would understand the disquiet that was churning within him. He was alone, utterly and completely alone in a sea of his own despair.