Gemotions

The invitation was a stark white rectangle amidst the clutter on his desk. A wave of heat flushed across his neck and face. His heart began to pound a frantic tattoo against his ribs, and the room seemed to shrink.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it further. He felt a sudden urge to escape, to run away to a place where no one knew him, where no one had any expectations. The thought of facing *them*, of being judged, of having to… explain… it was overwhelming.

He grabbed the invitation, and with an almost violent movement, he tore it into pieces. He tossed the pieces into the wastebasket, hoping that the physical act would somehow dispel the feeling of disquiet.