Gemotions

Michael slammed the refrigerator door a little too hard, the sound reverberating through the otherwise quiet kitchen. He hadn't meant to, but the glossy invitation, propped up with a magnet, was staring back at him. His breath hitched in his throat. Twenty years. Twenty years since he'd last walked those hallowed halls.

He began fiddling with the cap of a soda bottle, unscrewing it and screwing it back on repeatedly, a tic he hadn’t realized he still possessed. He couldn’t seem to sit still. He had to get up and walk, as if moving would somehow stop the feeling creeping into his chest. He suddenly felt the need for fresh air.

He stepped out onto the porch, gazing at the world. The world was going on, moving forward. That thought was almost worse. He would need to make a decision soon.