Gemotions

He paced the perimeter of the house, his hand constantly stroking the rough brick of the wall. The air felt thick, the sunlight harsh. Each shadow cast by the towering oak trees seemed to writhe and shift, concealing unseen observers. His breath hitched in his chest.

He kept seeing faces in the passing cars, the drivers' eyes lingering on his childhood sanctuary. Was someone watching him? Judging his attachment? He didn’t trust them, not with their casual smiles and averted gazes.

The rustling of leaves sent him spinning around. He imagined whispers, accusations, hidden cameras. He had to be alone. He scurried inside, locking the door and double-checking the locks.