Gemotions

David stood frozen, the paper clutched in his hand. The words swam before his eyes. He couldn't seem to process the meaning, the implications. His vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt.

He wandered aimlessly through the apartment, touching things as if to reassure himself that they were real, tangible. His hand lingered on the worn wood of his desk, the chipped paint on the kitchen counter. Each touch was a desperate plea for something to remain constant.

His throat felt tight, making it difficult to swallow. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't. He had to be strong. But the fear gnawed at him, a relentless beast in the pit of his stomach.