Gemotions

The small coffee shop felt stifling, the clatter of the cups and the murmur of conversation grating on Daniel's nerves. He stirred his coffee, watching the cream swirl into dark patterns. He hated the patterns. He needed to be alone. He’d barely touched his scone. The secret calls, the little white lies, they had taken root inside him. He felt like his heart had been replaced with a tightly wound spring.

He paid his bill and left, the cold air hitting his face. He walked fast, the city's noise no longer an annoyance but a welcome distraction. The park, he thought. Maybe the park.