Gemotions

The letter was stiff and formal, the accusations precise and detailed. "Late night gatherings," "loud laughter," "excessive foot traffic." He read it three times, each reading deepening the disquiet that settled in his stomach. He was alone; he lived *alone*.

He felt a sudden need to check every window, every lock. The house seemed to shrink around him, the familiar comforts transformed into potential threats. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't used in years.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He was utterly, completely bewildered. The accusations made absolutely no sense.