Gemotions

The air crackled with unspoken tension. "It's just… a fence," Mark said, his voice strained. His wife, Lisa, simply stared at the blueprint, her jaw clenched. He wanted to shout, but the words were stuck in his throat.

He knew she didn't want it. He didn't want it either. He felt an urge to flee, to be in a place where the world felt open, where the sky wasn't chopped up into neat, little squares. He needed air.

He excused himself to the bathroom, and ran cold water on his face, the coolness a brief respite. Looking in the mirror, his reflection seemed foreign, weary. When he went outside, he found himself walking aimlessly, with no place to go.