Gemotions

The contractor was late, again. Michael paced the living room, phone in hand. He kept seeing that stain on the carpet. He had called the police again and gotten nowhere.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He just wanted to get out. The air felt thick, the walls closing in. He opened the front door, just to stand outside for a few minutes.

He stared at the street, at the passing cars, at the normal and mundane world. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He closed the door. He was trapped. He knew he would never feel safe again.