Gemotions

The afternoon sun felt unusually oppressive, beating down on Arthur as he read the construction notice. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to flee, to disappear.

He retreated inside, locking the door behind him. He went to the kitchen and made a cup of chamomile tea, but the familiar ritual offered no solace. His hands were shaking so much, he spilled half of it.

He sat in silence, the taste of the tea a bitter reminder of the unease that had suddenly washed over him. He felt… exposed.