Gemotions

The coffee cup shook in his hand, sloshing dark liquid onto the pristine white countertop. He’d read the email three times, each reading triggering a deeper sense of wrongness. The words, so carefully crafted, so devoid of real feeling, resonated with an unsettling hollowness. He hated the forced cheerfulness of the message.

He slammed the cup down, the impact jarring through his arm. He paced the length of his tiny apartment, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. He felt a claustrophobic tightness in his chest, a sense of being trapped.

Outside, the city hummed, oblivious to his mounting consternation. Each passing car, each distant siren, felt like a cruel reminder of the relentless forward march of progress. He felt the need to get out, to escape, to run.