Gemotions

The familiar scent of old books and dust usually comforted Thomas, but today, the library felt oppressive. The stacks seemed to close in on him, the hushed whispers of the patrons grating on his nerves. He kept running his hand through his hair, a nervous tic he couldn't control.

His best friend, Daniel, had called earlier, a torrent of words about a new job, a fresh start, and the cross-country move. Thomas had managed to feign enthusiasm, but his stomach churned with a persistent unease. He felt as though the world was tilting on its axis.

He pulled a book from the shelf, but the words swam before his eyes. He closed it, the weight of it suddenly too much to bear, and slowly, he returned it to its place. He needed to get out, to breathe.