Gemotions

He’d woken up late, a rare treat. The morning sun poured through the kitchen window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He’d gone outside, whistling, expecting to see his beat-up pickup. It wasn't there. A coldness spread through him, prickling his skin. He double-checked the address, then the street, just in case he was mistaken.

His hands fumbled with his keys, as if he'd forgotten how to use them. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture clumsy and automatic. The sudden emptiness in the driveway left him feeling exposed, vulnerable. It felt as if something crucial had been snatched away.

He had a meeting in an hour. He pictured his boss's face, the disapproving frown. He considered the frantic call to the tow company, the inevitable hassle. Everything seemed to blur, a disorienting haze. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt suddenly, intensely alone.