Gemotions

The discovery came in the form of a faded postcard, a confession to a childhood crush. Mark remembered writing it, but he had never mailed it. Now, years later, the words felt like a beacon, drawing unwanted attention to his current life. A cold dread washed over him. He felt exposed, vulnerable.

He backed away from the table, his breath catching in his throat. He felt watched, a target. He imagined eyes on him from all directions. Each shadow seemed to lengthen, taking on sinister shapes.

He paced the confines of his living room, his mind racing. He had to erase this, wipe it away. He looked for a shredder, a fire, anything to obliterate it. He had a sudden urge to flee, to escape the invisible gaze.