Gemotions

The familiar comfort of his own home felt like a prison. He sat in his favorite chair, the newspaper unread in his lap. He felt trapped. The walls, usually welcoming, seemed to close in around him. He couldn’t shake the feeling of having been robbed, not of money or possessions, but of something far more precious: his future.

He closed his eyes, his chest constricting. He could taste the bitterness of it all, the taste of what he'd lost, what he would never fully get back. He felt the weight of it, the constant, suffocating knowledge that someone else’s life had somehow become his own.