Gemotions

The weight of the duvet pressed down on Arthur as he lay in bed. He hadn't slept properly since he had packed up his flat. He felt a constant, low-grade thrum of unease, a jittery energy that wouldn't let him settle. The room, his childhood bedroom, was too small, too filled with memories he didn't want to revisit.

He stared at the ceiling, the pattern of cracks above him a familiar landscape. He had spent hours staring at it as a child. It hadn't changed, but everything else had.

He felt a sudden, fierce urge to break something, to shatter the suffocating stillness. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He had to be presentable for dinner, had to pretend to be okay. He closed his eyes, willing the feeling to pass.