Gemotions

“Are you even listening?” his wife asked, but the question washed over him. The house was the only thought that mattered. He saw it again, in his mind’s eye – the bright yellow walls, the overgrown roses, the swing set in the backyard.

He stood by the window, the image of it now burned into his mind. He found he didn't want to talk, or eat, or even move. He couldn't shake this feeling of dread. It was a physical thing, like a weight on his chest. It made it hard to breathe.

He reached for a glass of water, his hand shaking so violently that he spilled the water on his shirt.