Gemotions

He stared at the paper as if it might spontaneously combust. His fingers traced the jagged lines of the signature, a stranger's name that now held his fate. His mouth felt dry, his tongue thick and useless. He’d just finished a plate of scrambled eggs, the yolk still staining the rim of his plate. He glanced at the television, still running, a mindless sitcom playing. It was a bizarre backdrop to such an extraordinary announcement. He found himself pacing the cramped living room, the hardwood floors creaking under his weight. He kept muttering, "This isn't real, this isn't real."