Gemotions

He gripped the letter so tightly his knuckles were white. The cheap paper crinkled in his sweaty palm. A cold sweat slicked his forehead. He swallowed, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. The dim light of his apartment seemed to shrink, closing in.

"They know," the note declared in a spidery script. His gaze darted to the window, the shadows outside twisting into grotesque shapes. He imagined eyes watching him. He pictured shadows moving.

He slammed the book shut, the sound echoing in the silent room. A sudden urge to scream clawed at his throat. He had to get rid of it. He had to disappear. He lunged for his coat, fumbling with the buttons, his hands shaking so violently he could barely manage.