Gemotions

His hands trembled so violently that he could barely unlock his front door. James stumbled inside, the wallet a lead weight in his pocket. The living room swam, the floral wallpaper seemed to undulate. He slammed the door, leaning against it, gasping for air. His breath hitched, coming in short, shallow bursts.

He needed to sit down. He fumbled for the light switch, his fingers clumsy and slow. The sudden brightness made his head ache.

He collapsed onto the sofa, the leather cool against his skin. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. He clawed at his collar, his tie suddenly too tight. He had to think. He had to be calm. But the world tilted precariously, threatening to spill him over the edge.