Gemotions

He stood in the doorway of the living room, scanning the space. He ran his hand along the wall, touching the pictures, the furniture. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt the need to inspect every surface, every shadow.

His mother bustled past him. "Dinner's almost ready, dear." He nodded, but didn't move. He had to be certain. He peered at the back door, then at the windows. Was anything out of place?

He sat at the kitchen table, his muscles tight. He listened to his parents chatting, but his focus was elsewhere. He was constantly scanning, assessing, anticipating. A constant stream of information passed through his brain.