Gemotions

The bright colors of the flowers on the card seemed to mock his fear, their cheerful exuberance completely at odds with his internal turmoil. He felt a sudden urge to destroy the card, to tear it into pieces, to obliterate any trace of it. But he hesitated.

He stood frozen, unable to move, unable to think clearly. His eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail as if for the last time. His mouth was dry, his throat constricted. Every sound, the ticking of the clock, the distant hum of traffic, seemed to amplify his mounting terror.

He felt utterly exposed, utterly vulnerable. He was trapped.