Gemotions

It was a text message. A short, impersonal message that said everything. The blood drained from his face. His pulse quickened, a frantic drumbeat against his ears. He crumpled the paper he was working on into a ball, and threw it across the room.

He began to mutter under his breath, his voice rising in pitch. The walls of his apartment seemed to shift, the familiar surroundings now a source of disorientation. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He needed to fix this, to change the outcome. But how? He felt paralyzed, unable to move, trapped by the weight of the moment. He wanted desperately to find a solution, but his mind had come to a standstill.