Gemotions

The grand staircase seemed to climb up endlessly, a physical manifestation of his ever-mounting anxieties. He avoided it, preferring to stay on the ground floor, as though he could physically limit his captivity. The space was enormous, cold, and echoing. He felt the chill crawl up his spine.

“Did you remember to lock the back door?” his sister, Olivia, asked, her voice sharp. He didn’t answer.

He paced the living room, the Persian rug a silent witness to his unrest. He found himself drawn to the windows, staring out at the world beyond, wishing for something different, something to set him free.