Gemotions

The phone vibrated again, a relentless mosquito buzz against Elias's thigh. He ignored it, staring at the blueprints spread across his kitchen table. They felt foreign, cold, mocking. He rubbed his temples, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. The architect’s jargon swam before him, lines and angles that represented the end of everything he knew.

He pushed the chair back, the scrape of the legs echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He needed air. He needed to be anywhere but here, with these plans. He grabbed his keys and jacket, the weight of them suddenly oppressive, and headed out into the November chill.

He walked aimlessly, each breath a ragged gasp. He felt as though the world was closing in on him, the buildings towering like indifferent giants. The insistent buzz of his phone, still vibrating in his pocket, felt like a tiny, malevolent insect.