Gemotions

The worn leather-bound journal was propped open on his kitchen table, pages filled with a handwriting he didn't recognise. It wasn't his. He felt an inexplicable dizziness, as if the floor beneath him was shifting. He picked up the journal, the weight of it settling in his hands.

He began reading, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar words, feeling a sense of creeping unease. He couldn't place the details, the people, the places described. He felt himself losing his footing, like he'd stepped into a dream he couldn't control. The kitchen clock seemed to taunt him, its rhythmic ticking a metronome to his mounting panic.