Gemotions

A coldness crept up his spine as he scrolled through the college's alumni magazine. His essay, "The Architecture of Grief," was nestled amongst the success stories, the bright smiling faces. He didn't want the recognition. His fingers, usually so deft at the keyboard, felt stiff, almost alien.

He found himself pacing his small apartment, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. He picked up a mug, brought it to his lips, but found he couldn’t drink. His throat was constricted. The words felt like they were twisting into a knot in his chest.

He should have chosen a more generic topic. Now the entire world could read about that time... about *her.* He needed to disappear. He sat down heavily on his sofa, suddenly exhausted, the magazine falling from his limp fingers.