Gemotions

The small apartment felt like a pressure cooker. The air was thick, heavy, with the sounds of demolition. He paced back and forth, the same spot on the worn carpet becoming a well-worn path from endless anxious walking. His fingers fidgeted, picking at nonexistent loose threads.

He felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sensation that had become all too common in recent weeks. The noise was unbearable. He needed to find some kind of release, some way to calm the racing thoughts in his head.

He grabbed his coat and hurried out the door, the abrupt movement making him stumble. The cool air outside did not provide relief. He started walking. He started running.