Gemotions

"This isn't real," Michael muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the reality would just vanish. The words on the screen swam before him, taunting him. He leaned back in his chair, the wheels of the office chair squeaking. The air in his office was thick, heavy, as though the oxygen had been replaced by cement. His hands were clammy, sticky. He needed fresh air, needed to be anywhere but here. He started to unbutton his shirt, as if that might provide some relief.