Gemotions

He saw it on the billboard while driving home from work. “Martha’s Meatloaf, Now at Every Supermarket!” It was his mother’s recipe. He didn’t stop at the store. He didn't even slow down. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. He felt a coldness creep into him, a chilling wave that started in his feet and spread upwards, numbing his hands and face.

He drove faster, the familiar streets blurring into a meaningless stream of color. He wanted to scream, to smash something, to escape the feeling that he was dissolving, disappearing into the vast anonymity of the world. He just kept driving, the distance a thin veil against the encroaching anxiety.