The door felt smaller now, almost minuscule so he couldn't really leave. Or he didn't feel like it. He checked his pulse. A habit he had back when the panic attacks were bad. He had to check if when he was feeling bad his heart was just beat fast. Then he knew to calm himself down.
His heart was regular, but the world now seemed very still. He thought about leaving, but then imagined all the potentially bad things that could happen.
Westcity
was safe, he wasn't ready for this. He found himself breathing now, he just realized it he was breathing fast like he was running.
He calmed himself breathing in and out, trying to imagine waves crashing on beach. Soft and slow.
"There is no storm."
A line he meditated on. Maybe he was just hungry, he found some bread and old peanut butter, and scarfed down one slice. Then another, he needed milk. He drank it straight from the carton.
"Okay."
He took some more breathes.
"There is no storm."
The storm was how he imagine panic. Everywhere all at once.
So he fought back, first with words then with thoughts, and soon he would be calmed down.
"I just gotta go."
He quickly put on his clothes a scarf, checked he had the keys, and he locked the door.
