Gemotions

The cloying perfume of his mother's baking filled the house, a smell that once comforted him, now made his stomach churn. Mark wanted to yell, to scream, to make the world stop spinning. He felt a potent pressure building in his chest.

He threw his phone onto the couch, the plastic cracking on impact. He looked at his hands, feeling disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else. He stood up and pushed the chair away from the table, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

He needed to get out, to escape the smell, the sounds, the feeling of entrapment. He grabbed his coat, ignoring his mother’s attempts to speak to him, and walked out the door. The fresh air offered a small measure of relief.