Gemotions

The invitation felt alien in Michael’s grip, a stark contrast to the rough feel of the worn paperback he’d been reading. He closed the book with a snap, the sound echoing in his small, book-lined apartment. He felt a need to retreat further, to find a place of undisturbed solitude.

He imagined the boisterous laughter, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie. The thought made his skin crawl. He got up and began to rearrange the books on his shelves, a frantic, almost desperate attempt to regain control. His breath hitched in his chest.

He hated the idea of explaining his life, of justifying his choices. He found himself avoiding his own reflection in the mirror, as if it contained a terrible secret. He felt a deep, instinctive aversion to the approaching date.