Gemotions

The smell of fresh paint, of sawdust, of newness. It was revolting. Daniel slammed the window shut, but the scent still managed to seep through, clinging to the air like a shroud. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the feeling that fluttered inside him.

He was tired. So, so tired. He just wanted… peace. He had wanted peace for years now.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. The workmen's laughter cut through the afternoon, a sharp contrast to the silence of his own home. He gulped the whiskey down, the harsh burn a familiar comfort. He considered going for a drive, anywhere, just to escape the clamor.

He felt a deep, profound sense of… something he couldn't grasp. A feeling he had known for a long time.