Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. The detective's voice, calm and clinical, still rang in his head. The previous owner, he'd said, had been found in the kitchen. Now, the gleaming stainless steel appliances felt threatening. Each gleaming surface reflected an image of his own face, distorted and uncertain.

His stomach churned, a feeling akin to being tossed in a violent sea. He opened the refrigerator, searching for something, anything, to ground him. The bright light hurt his eyes. He grabbed a bottle of water and almost dropped it. It slipped from his grasp and splashed on the tile floor, shattering into countless pieces.

He stumbled backward, as if he'd been punched. The shards of glass seemed to multiply, mirroring the chaos inside. He slumped against the counter, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt the need to get out, to run away.