Gemotions

He stared at the words, the vibrant colours of the flyer almost assaulting his senses. He reread the information, but the words felt fuzzy, as though someone had smeared Vaseline over the print. He found himself walking around his apartment, touching things, as though to anchor himself. His favourite armchair, the chipped vase on the side table, the books on the shelf.

He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought about leaving. It was the only place he’d felt safe in a long time. The thought of change made him feel like he was standing on shifting sand.

He walked to the window and stared at the street below. Every person that passed seemed to have a destination, a purpose. He felt as though he was adrift, lost at sea.