Gemotions

He sat on the park bench, the autumn leaves swirling around him like a kaleidoscope of chaos. Michael had been told he was going to die in a year, or two. He looked up at the sky, a vast expanse of gray that mirrored his current state. He felt heavy, weighted down. It seemed impossible to sort through the confusion.

He took a deep breath, trying to slow the racing thoughts, the pounding in his head. The air was cold, but it didn't seem to make a difference. His insides were twisted into knots. He felt as though he was being crushed by a colossal boulder. He closed his eyes, wishing for an end to the dizzying sensation.