It was as if he were in one room and his emotions had been left in another.  They were being kept there against his will.  He had not minded a break from them, but it had turned into an absence.  Had they been hijacked?  He couldn’t simply open a door to his emotions because the door to them was a wall.  So, he sat at the wall and bided time.  Every now and then he’d sense a vibration through the wall, but soon came to realize it was from his mind addressing itself: Who put this wall here?, I should climb it, Maybe dig a tunnel, Why no door?  His anxiety did not abate till he stepped away enough to be able to ask:  Isn’t it love when one’s emotions are hijacked and reside in another? — and when one feels no choice but to charge out of oneself and claim those emotions as one’s own?