Gemotions

He stared out the window, at the familiar oak tree that had been a silent witness to his childhood. The branches, now reaching towards a sky he no longer understood, seemed to mock him with their unchanging presence. Inside, everything had shifted. He wandered the house, bumping into furniture, as though navigating a maze.

His father called from the living room, a question about dinner. He couldn't remember what day it was, what time it was, what they were supposed to be eating. He felt a profound sense of dislocation, like a misplaced piece in a jigsaw puzzle. He couldn't quite remember how to be here, how to be *himself* in this space.

He found himself standing in the hallway, the worn carpet a strange expanse under his feet. The silence of the house pressed in on him, heavy and suffocating. He needed to be *somewhere*. Anywhere but here.