Gemotions

He paced his living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his bare feet. The plans were laid out on the coffee table, a grid of lines and dimensions. The fence. He kept re-reading the neighbor’s proposal, the polite language grating on his nerves.

A coldness settled in his bones. He poured himself a whiskey, even though it was only noon. The impending project felt like a weight, a restriction on his freedom.

The world seemed to shrink. He felt a need to look up into the sky.