Gemotions

Liam paced back and forth, the cold tile of his kitchen floor doing nothing to soothe his agitation. He kept checking his phone, each refresh a new stab of anxiety. He had just sent a message detailing his girlfriend's terrible new haircut to his mother. He meant to send it to his best friend, Mark.

His palms were slick with sweat. He envisioned his mother's inevitable response: a phone call, a lecture, a guilt trip. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the throbbing that had begun behind his eyes.

He imagined the mortified look on his girlfriend's face. The thought made his chest tighten. How could he fix this? He felt completely trapped.

The silence of the kitchen amplified the drumming of his pulse in his ears. He grabbed a glass of water, his hand shaking so badly he spilled some.