Gemotions

The air in the dining room felt thick, oppressive. Michael ran a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the information that was assaulting his senses. The house, his purchase, his new beginning, was a tomb.

He looked at the dining table, the place where he imagined sharing meals with friends. Now, it felt like a stage, the site of an unimaginable drama. The thought of eating here, of simply existing in this space, filled him with disgust.

He abruptly stood up and began pacing, his steps heavy. He felt a deep unsettling pressure in his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps. He wanted to shout, to break something, to release the pent-up tension that was gripping him. He felt pinned down, rooted in place.