Gemotions

He paced the cramped apartment, each stride a short, sharp burst of pent-up energy. He'd poured his heart out in a carefully crafted, deeply personal message to his girlfriend, expressing his frustration over their recent lack of communication. He’d intended to send it to her. But no. He looked down, horrified, at the name on the screen: his ex-wife.

He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him cold and clammy. He stopped pacing, his body rigid. The stale air in the apartment suddenly felt thick, heavy, impossible to breathe. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on the bright, mocking screen in his hand. What now? He closed his eyes.

He imagined her smug face, reading his vulnerability and probably snickering. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his temple. He felt like the air had been stolen from him.