Gemotions

The lump in his chest felt like a brick. He kept clearing his throat, hoping it would dislodge itself. He watched Mark pack the last box, his movements efficient and methodical. The movers were due in an hour. James found himself walking around the apartment, touching things: the worn handle of the fridge, the chipped corner of the bookshelf, the framed photo of them at the beach, their faces beaming.

He felt the sudden urge to run, to escape the tightening confines of the room. He needed air. He mumbled something about grabbing a quick walk, a pathetic excuse that hung in the air.

He stepped outside, the late afternoon sun felt cold on his skin. He started to walk. Fast.