Gemotions

The house felt smaller, somehow. He walked around, a sense of unreality washing over him. The living room, with its outdated furniture and the familiar smell of his father’s pipe tobacco, felt like a museum exhibit.

His hands fidgeted, he was unable to stand still. He was a visitor in his own past. He found himself wandering the halls, touching familiar objects, trying to find some anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

He ended up in front of the front door. He felt compelled to walk out, to run away. He didn't.