Where once the warmth of the space would calm him, now he couldn’t focus on the tangible objects within reach. He was too aware of his clothes, heavy against his body; the collar of his sweater, choking him; the resistance of his bones, straining against skin; the weight of his feet, concrete in boots. His hard teeth, his grainy tongue, the heft of his hair on his head. His heart pounded so hard he wanted to reach inside his chest and rip it out. It was tempting indeed, he thought, to use magic to spare his mind of such moments.
