Gemotions

He paced the cramped apartment, his footsteps a rhythmic tattoo against the worn floorboards. The air felt thick, heavy, suffocating. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it a tangled mess.

He knew he should call his grandmother, who had been so certain of his success. The thought of disappointing her, of seeing the light in her eyes dim, was almost unbearable. He couldn't bring himself to dial her number.

The flickering light from the overhead lamp cast long, dancing shadows, distorting the familiar shapes of the room. Everything seemed out of focus, blurred around the edges.