Gemotions

The world felt muted. Rain lashed against the windows, blurring the cityscape outside. Michael ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed lately. The late nights, the whispers in the hall, it was all starting to gnaw at him. He hated this feeling, this sense of impending doom.

He’d caught a glimpse of Emily's phone screen yesterday, a name he didn't recognize lit up on the display. When he asked, her response was dismissive, almost hostile. He now found himself staring at the closed bedroom door, every tick of the clock echoing in the stillness of the apartment. He wished he could just ask, but something, a tightening in his throat, held him back.