Gemotions

The silence in the room was deafening. John sat hunched on the worn sofa, his eyes fixed on a faded photograph of his family standing in front of the house. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge it. He traced the outline of his father's face with his finger, the same man who had built the house with his own hands.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee. He stood up abruptly and started to pace. Each footstep was like a nail being hammered into the coffin of his memories. The air grew thick, making him feel suffocated, and he struggled to catch his breath. He stopped, suddenly, his head spinning.