Gemotions

He drummed his fingers on the mahogany desk, a frantic tattoo against the silence of his office. The paperwork for the day sat in a neat stack, untouched. His gaze drifted to the window, where the city sprawled, indifferent to his agitation. He couldn't focus; his thoughts were a swarm of buzzing insects. The invitation from his old high school arrived in the mail yesterday, a class reunion. A wave of unease rippled through him. He recalled the stories of people he’d once known, including his childhood tormentor, now practicing therapy a few blocks away.

A sudden, impulsive need to move, to be somewhere else, propelled him out of his chair. He had to go, immediately, he just didn't know where.