Gemotions

He paced the length of his living room, his footsteps echoing a frantic rhythm. The decorations, carefully chosen and carefully hidden, now felt like accusing eyes. Mark had envisioned the night perfectly: laughter, music, friends. The sudden text - "Change of plans" - had sliced through that vision like a butcher knife. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The air in the room felt thick, like he was trying to breathe underwater. He stopped, staring out the window, the city lights blurred and indistinct.