Gemotions

He leaned against the wall, trying to create distance between himself and that… that *thing*. It was a suffocating space already, the scent of his cologne clinging to the air like a noxious cloud. He closed his eyes, picturing the open expanse of his apartment, the solitude. He wanted to scream.

"Anything, you know, any idea why it stopped?" Michael asked, a nervous tremor in his voice. Thomas just shrugged, his gaze fixed on the ceiling panel. He wasn’t going to help, not this time. He never helped.

His leg bounced, a frantic pulse against the floor. He focused on his breathing, each inhale a struggle against the rising tide of… something heavy. He wanted to walk away.