Gemotions

The museum felt overly hushed, the exhibits meticulously arranged. But Liam couldn't focus on the artifacts. He roamed through the galleries, his feet carrying him from room to room with a sense of urgency. He was searching for something he couldn't name. He kept finding himself pacing, his hands constantly touching his pockets. It was a compulsion, a need to keep moving. He felt a rising pressure he couldn't quite contain.

He finally stopped in front of a painting of a tumultuous sea. The other person beside him, a guy, said, "It reminds me of the trip we’re planning with Mark." Liam's stomach lurched. Mark. He knew the name. The guy was talking about their special getaway, the details of which sounded suspiciously familiar. Liam's jaw clenched. The sea in the painting suddenly seemed less dramatic than the chaos brewing inside him.

"You mean the one to the beach house he told me *he* owned?" Liam asked, his voice low and tight. The other man looked at him, his face mirroring Liam's sudden feeling of icy dread.