Gemotions

David ran his hand through his hair, the strands catching on his agitated fingers. The neighbor’s gossiping, the hushed tones, the newspaper clipping – they all coalesced into a suffocating truth. He felt a burning in his chest and a light-headedness that threatened to send him to the floor. The familiar scent of lemon cleaner, usually a comfort, now seemed to mock him.

He began to pace, his steps erratic. The living room, which he'd spent months redecorating, suddenly seemed alien, filled with unseen eyes. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps. He stopped, grabbing a nearby picture frame, his grip so tight he feared the glass would shatter.

"No, no, no," he muttered over and over again, as if repetition could erase the awful revelation. The sweat dripped down his temples. He needed to be out, away from this place that suddenly felt like a tomb.