Gemotions

The world felt muted, a dull echo of its former vibrancy. John had stopped leaving his apartment. The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from the glow of his laptop screen. He sat hunched over the keyboard, replaying conversations in his head, searching for a flaw, a reason. There was a constant, dull pressure in his chest, a weight that made it difficult to breathe. He needed someone to talk to, to sort through the wreckage of his life. He decided he needed to search for a therapist. The name on the website made his pulse quicken. Mark Peterson. His childhood foe. The irony of it, almost suffocated him.