Gemotions

He felt his pulse quicken, his breath catching in his throat. It was the principle of the thing, he thought. He had to respond, had to object. But the mere idea of conflict, of confrontation, made his body recoil.

His hands shook as he set down the letter. He envisioned the conversation, the raised voices, the potential for animosity. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

He wanted to hide. He wanted to disappear. He felt like he was suffocating in his own skin. He went to the door and paused, unable to open it. He remained there, unmoving, paralyzed by the thought of what he would have to do.