Gemotions

He stared at the blank page, a stark white canvas reflecting his own internal turmoil. The cursor blinked, a mocking metronome keeping time with the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat. He had promised himself he would write something, anything, while waiting for the news. But the words wouldn't come. They had abandoned him.

He slammed his fist on the desk, the impact sending a ripple of pain up his arm. He felt a sudden, almost desperate urge to flee, to escape the confines of his study, to run until he could no longer feel. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the wild, panicked thoughts that threatened to consume him.

He looked at the empty space. It was all a mistake.