Gemotions

He couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, the familiar creaks of the old building amplifying his unrest. He got up and walked over to the window, the city lights below seeming to mock him.

He felt a deep, gnawing sense of unease. He felt physically ill. He made a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it would soothe his nerves, but the warm liquid did little to calm the internal storm.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring out into the darkness, a vast chasm of uncertainty opening before him. He ran his hand through his hair, finding a fresh wave of gray hairs.