Gemotions

He paced the confines of his old bedroom, restless. The mattress sagged as he sat, the old springs groaning. He opened the window, even though it was freezing outside. Fresh air was important. He listened to the night, straining to catch any sound that didn't belong.

He heard his father's footsteps on the stairs, and he tensed, his body going rigid. The door creaked open. "Everything alright, son?" His father's voice was soft, concerned.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn't relax, couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be ready for something. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier than ever.