Gemotions

He stared at the words, the black ink blurring before his eyes. It was like a nightmare unfolding in broad daylight. The air in his cramped room felt thin, difficult to breathe.

He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it further. Every muscle in his body felt tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. The familiar objects around him – the chipped coffee mug, the worn armchair – now seemed to mock his vulnerability.

He felt a primal urge to scream, to lash out at the injustice. But the words caught in his throat, replaced by a suffocating silence. He felt a cold dread wash over him, leaving him numb.