Gemotions

The phone slipped from his numb fingers, clattering onto the hardwood floor. Oliver stared at the shattered screen, a perfect metaphor for the way he felt inside. The news report was still open, the accusations leveled against his favorite author, Jasper Thorne, hanging in the air. Oliver’s face was ashen.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, feeling the strands catch and tangle. His apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt alien, the walls closing in. He sat on the floor, legs drawn up to his chest, and buried his face in his hands. The world had tilted on its axis, and he felt like he was about to fall off.