Gemotions

He’d always considered his essay a private thing, a key he'd used to unlock a door. Now, the door was wide open, and everyone could walk right in. Thomas felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck as he read it. His carefully chosen words, now stripped of their context, felt utterly exposed. He pushed his chair back from his desk, the abrupt movement sending books and papers scattering across the floor.

He stared out the window, the familiar view of the city now blurred and indistinct. The vibrant life outside seemed distant, irrelevant. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt trapped, pinned down by a weight he couldn't name.

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He needed to *do* something, anything to shatter the paralysis that held him. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door.