Gemotions

James watched the police car pull up across the street. His stomach lurched. He knew. The party last night had been a bit much. The music, the laughter, the general revelry. He ran a hand through his hair, already imagining the conversation.

He saw the officer heading up the path toward his door, the metallic glint of the badge catching the sunlight. His heart began to pound a frantic tattoo against his ribs. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to hide, to disappear.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, and he pulled open the door. The officer spoke. James’s apology was immediate, automatic. His face felt hot, his palms were sweating, and his voice quivered slightly as he listened.