Gemotions

The familiar scent of his mother's cooking, usually a comfort, now grated on his nerves. He stood in the hallway, listening to the clatter of the kitchen, his muscles taut, his senses heightened. Every noise, every movement, felt like a potential threat.

He sat at the kitchen table, forcing himself to eat, but he couldn't take his eyes off the windows. The glare of the street lights seemed to shift and distort, playing tricks on his eyes. He kept reaching out, as if touching the air to confirm that it was empty.

His mother asked, "How's your new job going?" He gave a vague answer, his mind was preoccupied. His eyes darted around the room, picking up on the details. He had to be aware.