Gemotions

The lawyer’s words echoed in his head, a relentless soundtrack to his mounting panic. He felt a need to move, to do something, anything, but his limbs were leaden. The notice crumpled in his grip, the paper feeling fragile and insufficient.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, gazing out at the dreary street below. The distant rumble of traffic seemed to amplify the frantic pounding in his chest. His gaze lingered on the chipped paint on the cabinets. His mind raced, calculating, assessing.

He began to clear the counter in a frenzy of action, throwing things into the sink, the abrupt noise jarring him. He needed to think, to plan, but the anxiety kept tugging at the edges of his control.