Gemotions

He’d been enjoying a quiet evening, settling into his armchair with a book. The detective’s knock at the door was unexpected. He felt a profound disorientation as the man spoke, matter-of-factly, about a cold case. The detective's voice droned on, outlining facts. He watched as the detective pointed, a sweeping gesture toward the living room where he'd installed his expensive sound system.

A wave of dizziness washed over him. The comfy chair, usually a source of comfort, suddenly felt alien, the fabric rough against his skin. This place he’d called home…a place of murder? The books on his shelves seemed to leer at him. He needed to get out. He needed air. He rose abruptly, nearly knocking over a lamp.

“I…I need a moment,” he stammered, his palms growing slick with sweat.