Gemotions

"I never told anyone that," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He was hunched over the book, his shoulders slumped, as he read a passage about a childhood incident he’d long tried to forget. The words swam before his eyes. He felt a sharp pang of shame, the kind that made his skin crawl.

He pushed the book away, leaning back in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. The coffee on his desk had gone cold. He felt a familiar, unwelcome tightening in his chest. He looked around his office, at the comfortable, familiar things around him, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He felt exposed, stripped bare. He needed to get out, to be somewhere, anywhere, away from this constant feeling of being watched.