Gemotions

"No, I’m sure it was here last night," Liam stammered, his voice tight. The tow truck driver, a mountain of a man, merely shrugged. Liam’s palms were slick with perspiration. He felt exposed, vulnerable, standing in his slippers on the dew-kissed grass.

His mind raced, replaying the previous evening. Had he forgotten something? A detail, a rule, a… anything? He felt a sudden, sharp pang of self-doubt. His usual confidence had evaporated, replaced by a disconcerting fragility. He glanced at his house, usually a source of comfort, but now a silent, unsympathetic witness.

The walk to the bus stop felt miles long. The city noises seemed louder, sharper, more intrusive. He found himself avoiding eye contact with strangers, convinced they could somehow see his disquiet. The thought of the day ahead, a busy day at work, made his stomach twist.