Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver bouncing on the countertop. Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead, tracing paths down his temples. This couldn’t be right. He paced the cramped apartment, his footsteps a staccato rhythm against the worn linoleum. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, to twist into something menacing. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands, a desperate attempt to find purchase in the swirling vortex of his thoughts. He needed to understand. He needed answers.