Gemotions

He stared at the screen, a cursor blinking mockingly on the “Confirm” button. His fingers twitched, hovering over it. It was Michael – the kid who'd relentlessly teased him about his stammer in fifth grade. A coldness spread through him, making him pull the collar of his shirt. He hadn't thought about Michael in years.

He leaned back in his chair, the office around him a blur. The usual sounds of the workday—the tap-tap of keyboards, the murmur of conversations—seemed distant. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it unusually damp. He needed to get something done but felt completely paralyzed.