Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight, illuminating the words that had sent shivers down his spine. The letter, found in a first edition of *The Picture of Dorian Gray*, felt like a tangible threat. His hands were shaking.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. His heart felt like a trapped bird, beating wildly against the bars of his chest. His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He knew he shouldn't be here. He had to leave. His eyes darted to the window, the escape. He grabbed his coat, heading out the door, with no destination in mind.