Gemotions

He had to get out, he told himself. He couldn’t be cooped up in his apartment any longer. The air was too thick, the walls closing in. He needed to *move*. Michael grabbed his keys, barely acknowledging his roommate's startled look.

His jaw was clenched so tight it ached. He headed towards the park, a place he usually found solace, but today it felt alien. He saw a couple laughing, a dog chasing a ball; the simple joy of others intensified his own tension. He kept replaying the interview, every nervous tic, every flubbed sentence.

He walked faster and faster, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Every footstep felt heavy, weighted down by a crushing sense of dread. He couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom.