Gemotions

He stared at the magazine, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. It was his work, every painstakingly crafted word, yet another man’s face smiled back from the cover. He’d poured his soul into the piece, and now, it belonged to someone else. His breath came in shallow, rapid pants.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop the world from spinning. The air felt heavy, like a suffocating blanket. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, a roaring static that drowned out all other sounds. He didn't understand how this could happen, and the realization made his palms sweat.

He had to get out, he thought, needing to escape the confines of his small apartment. He fumbled for his keys, his hands clumsy and unresponsive. The street outside seemed suddenly vast, the shadows deepening, and he hurried to find sanctuary in the anonymity of the crowded bus.