Gemotions

The card was tucked between the bills and junk mail. John felt a strange tingling in his fingertips as he opened it. The silence of the house pressed in on him. He felt an intense need to *escape*.

He slammed the card onto the table. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the window. He was suddenly aware of every creak of the floorboards, every tick of the clock.

He strode over to the window, throwing it open. The familiar scent of freshly cut grass offered no solace. He had to *go*, he thought. He had to *see* something. He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.