Gemotions

The embossed lettering on the invitation blurred before Michael’s eyes. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his temples, and a prickling sensation on his skin. He couldn't seem to focus. He pushed away from his desk, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. He paced the small confines of his office, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

He needed air, he needed space, he needed something, anything, to stop the feeling of being trapped. He reached for the phone, intending to call his therapist, but the dial tone seemed to mock him. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a chasm.