Gemotions

The house seemed to shrink around him. The walls closed in, the ceilings lowered. He kept seeing his reflection in the hallway mirrors, a stranger staring back. He hardly recognized himself.

He jumped when his mother called him for dinner. He imagined her words were carefully crafted, each phrase a hidden barb. He started at the bottom of the stairs, delaying his descent. His body felt heavy, his legs leaden.

He tried to engage in a conversation, but the words caught in his throat. He felt exposed, stripped bare. Each question, each comment, he interpreted as an accusation. He retreated into himself, a fortress he built brick by brick.

He started sleeping with a knife under his pillow.