Gemotions

The hum of the espresso machine, usually a source of comfort, now grated on his nerves. He stood behind the counter of his cafe, the wallet hidden in the register. He had used some of the money to fix an appliance, he told himself. Just a small amount.

The faces of his regular customers seemed to shift and change, morphing into accusing glares. He poured a coffee, his hand trembling. His palms began to sweat.

He found himself avoiding eye contact, flinching at every ring of the door chime. The warmth of the cafe was now a stifling blanket, trapping him in a prison of his own making.