Gemotions

The sheriff’s deputy’s words were a cold slap across the face. "You have thirty days." The simple sentence, so matter-of-fact, shattered the illusion of security. The color drained from Jake’s face. He could feel his pulse racing, a frantic drumbeat in his ears. The familiar scent of coffee from the pot in the kitchen, usually a comfort, now seemed to mock his situation.

He forced a smile, a desperate attempt to appear calm. But inside, his stomach churned, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to regain control, but the feeling of falling was inescapable.