Gemotions

The rejection letter was a paper cut, slicing open a wound he hadn't realized was festering. He reread it, the polite phrases now seeming laced with mockery. He glanced at the window, suddenly convinced someone was watching him. He quickly lowered the blinds, the click echoing in the sudden dimness.

He paced the confines of his small apartment, each step a creak of floorboards that amplified the racing thump in his chest. A knock. He froze. Every muscle tightened. He peered through the peephole, a stranger’s face staring back. He didn't breathe.

He grabbed the phone, the cold plastic a strange comfort in his trembling hand. He’d call the police. But what would he say? "I think someone might be... looking at me?" They'd laugh. He slowly put the phone down, the dial tone a shrill, accusing sound. He had to be calm. He looked around his apartment once more and felt a shiver.