Gemotions

The world seemed to shrink around him, the walls of the apartment closing in. The manuscript, "Beneath the Surface," was a constant weight, a crushing burden. He had found it when he was looking for a recipe, and now the kitchen felt like a prison.

He slammed the refrigerator door, the noise echoing in the silent apartment. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate. He was constantly jumpy, every small sound making him start.

He left the apartment, the fresh air doing little to calm his nerves. He walked for hours, aimlessly, the city lights blurring into an indistinct haze. He wanted to scream.