Gemotions

"Oh, come on!" Ben slammed his fist lightly on the counter, making his coffee cup jump. His stomach churned, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. He reread the notice again, the neat block letters mocking him. He hated this feeling of being constantly on edge, like he was balanced on a razor's edge.

He slumped onto a kitchen stool, his legs suddenly heavy. His apartment, a place of simple pleasures and familiar routines, had become a source of anxiety. He picked at the label on a can of beans, his focus fixated. The constant buzzing hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify the internal pressure.

He couldn't even enjoy his morning coffee. The bitter taste mirrored the unpleasant feelings that had washed over him. He needed to do something, anything to quell the mounting pressure. Maybe a jog, to run away from this impending doom.