Gemotions

He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet of his apartment. His hands, still stained with ink from the late-night crossword, trembled. Another escape. Another frantic dash to retrieve it before it could... before it could what? The question hung in the air, unanswered, a phantom pressure in his chest.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. The dog's playful bark, usually a welcome sound, now felt like a taunt. He checked the lock on the door, then checked it again.

He needed a cigarette. He hadn't smoked in months, but the craving clawed at him, a desperate plea for something to ground him. He didn’t dare go out.