Gemotions

He paced back and forth across his cramped apartment. The wallet sat on the coffee table, a sleek, expensive object. He felt a strange disconnect, as if he were observing himself from a distance. The usual comfort of his home felt tainted, the familiar objects now alien and unsettling.

He'd tried to watch television, but the vibrant colours and loud noises only heightened his internal tension. The money was burning a hole in his consciousness, a constant, nagging presence. He felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

He stopped pacing, his hands trembling. He needed to do something, anything, to alleviate the pressure building inside him. The silence of the room was now his greatest enemy.